Safety Net
by foreverHenry919
Summary: A big news story breaks of another immortal and he's not Adam or Henry. But is their shared secret in jeopardy now that people are told how to, in effect, "hunt" for immortals and turn them in? I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.
1. Safety Net Ch 1 to 2

The 11th precinct of the NYPD was strangely quiet when Dr. Henry Morgan, star medical examiner, steps off the elevator and makes a swiftly-paced beeline for the desk of his unofficial crime-solving partner, Det. Jo Martinez. His heart skips a beat at the prospect of once again being near the dark-haired latina with the large, beautiful eyes and captivating smile. He swallows as he nears her desk, hoping that he could maintain some dignity and an air of professionalism as he delivers and explains the results of the toxicology report on their latest victim, a Jane Doe. However, Jo was not sitting at her desk, as usual; she was standing by her chair, as was Det. Mike Hanson, her official crime-solving partner. They and all of the other detectives and uniformed personnel were standing, their attentions riveted to several computer screens on the far wall next to Lieutenant Joanna Reece's office. Normally the screens would display street activity in real time from various surveillance cameras placed in different locations inside and outside the precinct building.

As he nears her desk, however, he abruptly slows his pace and stops just a few feet behind the unusually large throng of law enforcement personnel, all eerily silent, as they listen intently to what appears to be a press conference. Henry's brow furrows over his large, interesting eyes, his mouth a thin line as he gives his attention to the press conference, as well.

Speaking onscreen is a young white male of average height and build, in his 30's with a thick shock of medium brown hair, blue eyes and chiseled features. Several microphones from TV, cable and online news outlets are thrust into his face as he comes to the end of reading a prepared statement that details several years of relentlessly being pursued by a group of people who want to hold him captive and find out the secret of his...immortality. The wide, red, onscreen banner at the bottom of the screen displays in bold, white letters: "Breaking News...Man Claims Immortality".

Henry's brow unfurrows as his eyes widen in slowly increasing terror, his mouth suddenly forming a silent "O". His lower lip trembles as he closes his mouth back into an even tighter line. He lowers his head and listens more intently to the young man on the screen. He struggles to control his erratic breathing. At the same time, he tries to block out the titters and guffaws of the others in the room who were watching. And the cruel comments: "Guy must be nuts." "Must have escaped from Bellevue." "Boy, what some folks won't do to get a video to go viral." Henry has heard it all. And more. And worse sometimes when his own immortality has been exposed. Either this young man is delusional, or very brave. Henry wonders briefly if Adam is aware of this press conference and what he thinks of all this. Of course, he'd never be able to ask him since he has no intention of doing anything to release the older, psychotic immortal from his locked-in condition.

Reporters bombard the young man, Ben Larson, immediately with questions but he steps to his left, away from the microphones and becomes silent. A much older white-haired man in a suit and white lab coat steps in front of the microphones. He identifies himself as a geneticist, Dr. Reuben Barnes, and proceeds to bolster Larson's claim with scientific evidence derived from his extensive examination of Larson. As the geneticist did so, Larson appears both nervous and relieved as he stands next to him with his hands clasped behind his back. From time to time, he squares his sometimes slouching shoulders and raises his chin as if an invisible drill sergeant reminds him.

Henry slowly regains control of his legs and creeps closer to hear the geneticist's words - and to try to understand them. He flexes his hands open and closed even though they feel clammy with perspiration. Suddenly, he doesn't want Jo to see him. He slips the toxicology report onto her desk and lowers his head, tips it slightly to the right, in an effort to better concentrate on the scientific jargon of the geneticist.

"Some people are predisposed to longevity because certain genetic markers have been identified that make it easier for those persons to live to the age of 100 or more. Ben Larson's DNA shows these same markers but for some reason they are in a more arrested state. In other words, he has aged, most likely, since his late teens or early twenties, at a much slower rate than normal human beings. For instance, if he lived to be 125, physically and mentally his age would only be about 40." Dr. Barnes paused to exchange a knowing look with Larson, who breaks his stoic pose to also offer a small smile of... gratitude? Barnes returns his attention to the microphones and throng of reporters and announces that his remarks are concluded. He then quickly adds, "My colleagues and I have never seen anything like this is in all our years of study. Ben Larson has come forward in an effort to obtain help regarding his condition and to remain safe from those who would want to imprison him as their own personal guinea pig in their selfish quest for personal immortality for their own greedy purposes. If there is anyone else out there with Ben's condition or something similar and akin to immortality or unexplained unnatural life prolongation, please come forward. Perhaps we can help you. You. Are. Not. Alone. Please contact me at the Center for Scientific Discovery in Ithaca, New York. We want to help Ben and we want to help YOU, too. Thank you." He gathers his papers and seems prepared to take questions.

(Reporters clamoring, yelling over each others' questions)

Reporter #1: "Mr. Larson, do you still fear for your safety?" Henry's ears perk up for Ben's response.

Ben sighs and looks down at his feet, then quickly back up: "Let's just say that I knew I had to trust someone and I chose Dr. Barnes and his staff. So far they have lived up to their promise to keep me safe. And for that, I am grateful."

Reporter #2: "Have you met anyone else with your condition or something like it?" Even though Henry is quite sure that Ben and he have never crossed paths, he holds his breath and stills himself, awaiting Ben's response. Fortunately, Ben immediately states his denial. Henry breathes again and slightly shakes his head as he blinks repeatedly.

Reporter #3): "Dr. Barnes, would these other so-called immortals be readily identifiable even if they choose not to come forward?"

"Well, I don't want to cause a panic or anything," Dr. Barnes hesitantly begins, "but there might be others who are even older than Ben Larson. That is, people who have learned to hide in plain sight, out of fear of exposure, of course. It's conceivable that they would also age at a much slower rate like Ben, or maybe not at all. They would have lived through times that you and I only know of in history books. This firsthand knowledge would make them appear more learned, more intelligent, more observant than the average individual. Look for someone who might seem to be out of step with today's world. A walking history book, so to speak. Perhaps their preferred mode of dress is not exactly up with the times, either. They might use outdated expressions and/or speak several languages, especially languages that are no longer in use. Their apparent young age will not match the vast storehouse of knowledge they possess."

Henry slowly casts his eyes downward, taking in his preferred style of dress: the vest, the scarf, suit coat and the waist coat. These items of clothing offer him just a small bit of comfort, of familiarity left over from his normal life a little over 200 years ago. No one else would know that...or understand that. He knows that his style of dress is called the "1910 look" and is in style now, pocketwatch and all, but he can feel the panic rising as heads begin to turn towards him, as they gradually become aware of his presence. His mouth is dry and he probably would not be able to utter an intelligent word to Jo or anyone else right now.

He schools his features, paled now in the wake of Dr. Barnes' irresponsible dronings about how to spot an immortal. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears and all he wants now is to turn and run as fast as he can to the safety of the morgue. No. Run home! And pack! He and Abe LEAVE New York. Ohhh, just when he thought this was such a lovely spring day, Bloody Hell !

He turns to his left and begins to make his way to the elevator, ignoring the curious stares of Jo, Hanson, Reece and several others. They're making the connection, he says to himself. It's not fair! Why won't people just leave me alone and let me live SOME-where in peace? If it's not prying eyes and curious minds, it's that fiendish Adam. Adam! Henry realizes in another wave of panic that Adam is not going to age in his locked-in condition. And someone will realize that Henry Morgan of the OCME is the emergency contact. Eventually, someone will put two and two together - what's taking the blasted elevator so long to get here? He can hear the familiar click, click, click of Jo's heels behind him; the familiar jingle of Hanson's keys in his pockets whenever he moves at all. Henry can tell that Hanson is jogging and so is Jo. He's got to get off. this. floor!

Thankfully, the "ding" of the elevator is heard and Henry quickly slides into it. But just as he turns to punch the down button, both Jo and Hanson slide in after him. They're both flushed and a bit breathless from the short sprint to catch up with him. Henry freezes but draws on every bit of willpower to calm both his features and his breathing. Hanson is the first to speak.

"Hey, Doc, that Dr. Barnes almost described you to a tee. Do I need to...rat ya out?" Hanson laughs good-naturedly. Then, in a softer tone, "Lieu wanted us to make sure you were OK."

"Yeah, Henry. Maybe we should shadow you for a while to make sure nobody kidnaps you," Jo says with that brilliantly beautiful smile, which at any other time would have made his heart flutter and stolen his breath away. Well, it IS stealing his breath away. And his heart IS fluttering...just not in a good way. He clasps his hands together in front of him and somehow manages to smile faintly and respond as lightheartedly as possible, "No, no, detectives, I can assure you that I do not need to be 'ratted out'; neither do I require your generous offer of being my bodyguards." The three of them have a good chuckle.

The elevator stops and the doors slide open, having arrived on the floor where the morgue is. Henry steps past Jo and she gently touches him on his left upper arm. She looks into his eyes and in a serious tone tells him that he should contact her immediately if he does have any trouble. Hanson gently fistbumps him on his right upper arm and reiterates what Jo said, ending with, "After all, what are friends for?"

Henry nods a couple of times, grins widely and swallows a lump in his throat. He's really touched that they care that he might be "mistaken" (yeah, right) for an immortal and they will be there for him. He stares into Jo's soft brown eyes and her grin is almost identical to his as she stares into his chocolate-brown eyes. Her eyes flitter from his entrancing eyes to the scruff on his cheek and neck and up to his lips. His eyes, likewise, drink in every aspect of her face, her hair, her lips, her neck, back to those tempting lips of hers.

Hanson rolls his eyes and loudly clears his throat. "OK, you two, neutral corners. This is a place of business, so none of that dreamy-eyed lovey-dovey stuff. I just ate, Geez." They blushingly take the hint as Henry steps away so the doors can close. He watches Jo lower her head and bite her lower lip as the elevator doors close. His reflection in the smooth metal of the doors grins back at him. He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks into the morgue. Perhaps he should invite Jo to dinner tonight. It's customary, after all, to end a date with a...kiss...right?

He's shaken from his thoughts when Lucas runs up to him with several of his comic books ("graphic novels, Doc") assuring him that he can borrow any of them that contain "immortal stuff" in an effort to learn how to protect himself from those who might mistake him for an immortal. "Because we got your back, Doc! I mean you may have all that weird, creepy fuddy-duddy thing goin' on, I mean, uh, you're not weird, OR creepy, but it might look like that to someone else...who doesn't know you like I do, like WE do...that is...ya know, I'll just leave them on your desk and you can read 'em when you get a chance. Or not. Your choice. I'll just, uh, goooo backkkk over here -"

"Thank you, Lucas," Henry cuts him off. "I appreciate your concern but your fears are ungrounded. And I can assure you that I have been called worse." Much worse. "Perhaps I will peruse your graphic literature in order to glean information for research purposes, only, you understand?"

Lucas' head bobs up and down until Henry thinks it may come unglued from the poor lad's body. Henry can't help but smile at the endearing antics of his young assistant. "OK, Doc, yeah, yeah, OK, you got it."

Henry takes the books from Lucas who is swooning almost as much as he and Jo were earlier. He drops the books onto his desk and sits in his chair. He marvels at the close connections he has made while working in the morgue and with the NYPD these past few years. Perhaps, he muses, he won't have to out himself like poor Ben Larson. And he can stay here and enjoy this life for a few more years because he realizes he has what Ben Larson obtained, in his own way: a safety net.

vvvv

 **Summary:**

Henry's temporary euphoria fades and paranoia sets in. Reece, Jo and Hanson confer about keeping Henry safe from those who would "mistake" him as being an immortal. Jo begins to have doubts that immortality does not exist. Lucas sees his boss, Henry, in a state of despair and overhears a troubling phone conversation between Henry and Abe.

vvvvv

Hanson presses the elevator button for their floor in the precinct while Jo keeps her eyes diverted downward as the elevator hums to life and lifts them upwards. "Not - another - word", she says stonily. He raises one eyebrow toward his thick thatch of black hair but diverts his own green eyes up, suddenly becoming overly interested in the elevator's floor counter and thinking it's best to keep his trap shut...for now.

The awkward silence between them is thankfully broken when the elevator stops and the doors slide open. Jo steps out and strides towards her desk. Hanson closely follows. As they get closer to their respective desks, they see that Lt. Reece is standing just inside her office with the door slightly open. She motions for them with a slight "come hither" motion of her right hand. Jo can't help but think that the motion is not too unlike the Queen of England's sideways wave to her lowly subjects. After all, Reece, one of the most experienced and capable black women on the force, is the Queen of Sheba here; this is her domain and her rule is not challenged. Not by her, not by Hanson, not by anyone else in their right mind.

As they walk towards her office, they can't help but notice that several others notice them and what feels like their walk of shame. As they enter and seat themselves in the two small chairs facing Reece's desk, she closes the door and takes her seat behind her desk, facing them. She gazes intently at them and asks, "Have we gotten either an ID or COD on Jane Doe 462 yet?"

"Uh, no," Jo replies, "neither yet, but we're all working on it. Henry dropped the toxicology report on my desk a little while ago, but I haven't had a chance to look at it."

Hanson shakes his head and adds, "Fingerprints are a no-go because of the extensive burns on her hands fingers and feet. Whoever murdered her (Geez, I sound like the Doc) that is, IF she was murdered (he shoots a sideways glance at Jo) we'll know better once we find out who she is. We got DNA but nobody to match it with yet. We're waiting for dental."

Reece nods and leans forward. "So, what's up with Henry? That TV press conference seemed to really upset him."

"He didn't say but most likely he didn't like Barnes' description of a so-called immortal," Jo replied. "An overzealous individual could easily invade his privacy by mistaking him for being one."

"Yeah," Hanson adds, "the way he dresses and all that history he spouts at the drop of a hat. I mean the guy speaks an old style of English and at least three other languages fluently: Spanish, Italian, and French. He's an easy target."

"Well, he also speaks Russian, German, Portuguese and Welsh..." Jo's voice trails off at the end. She bites her lower lip and her brow furrows in that familiar way when she's sorting things out.

Reece volunteers that Henry once told her that he also speaks Norwegian, Polish and Lithuanian. They all recall how he was able to expertly transcribe the Codex from their bridge jumper case a few months ago. The room is silent for several moments as they all digest what they have just shared. The lieutenant then reminds them that it's important to provide Henry as much support as possible during this time, even if he refuses, because he is considered to be one of their own.

Jo is lost in her own thoughts about Henry and some things he has said in the past that didn't make sense then, but maybe now... No. She shakes the absurd thought out of her head. Henry might be a private person with his own brand of eccentricity and Victorian, gentlemanly manners and dress. She suddenly imagines him in Dickensian England, exiting a black, shiny carriage and slowly turning his elegantly handsome face towards her with that dazzling smile. But...NO...immortality is for fairy tales! Right? That Larson guy who claims to be immortal and that Barnes fellow...they're either crazy or they're lying. She snaps back to the present conversation when she realizes that Reece has ended the short meeting. "...and everything we've discussed about Dr. Morgan does not leave this office. Back to work, Detectives."

Jo and Hanson leave Reece's office and return to their respective desks but do not sit. Hanson adjusts his belt and sighs. "How 'bout I treat ya to some coffee, huh?" Jo, a bit surprised by his offer, gladly accepts. They've been partners for a little more than two years and can read each other pretty well. "Coffee" is code word between them for "Let's discuss this in private." Once out of the building, they head to the 50's diner around the corner. Chief topic of conversation should be about their Jane Doe 462, but they both know it will be about Dr. Henry Morgan. 

vvvv

Henry sighs and his temporary euphoria fades. Who was he kidding? Would his small group of comrades line up to protect him if they knew the truth about him? His long story? His complicated, long story? And what he did to Adam, no matter how well-deserved the punishment? He wagered they would not. Groaning, he runs his hands through his brown curls, leans forward and places his head in his hands. The phone rings on his desk but he doesn't react to it. He retains his position while the phone rings.

Lucas, hearing his boss groan, silently rises from his desk just outside the ME's office and peers into the open doorway. He's dismayed to see Henry in such a state of despair after his seemingly happy demeanor only a few minutes ago. After the fifth ring, Henry finally sighs and moves one hand away from his face to finally answer the phone. As he does so, Lucas quickly ducks back out of sight but can't help but hear Henry's side of the conversation.

"Yessss, hello," his tone flat and tired.  
"Oh. Hello, Abraham."  
"Yes, I saw the Barnes and Larson circus on TV this morning!"  
"I'm not yelling! (silence) I'm not yelling...my apologies."  
"What?! No, I don't remember any Barnes family - ohhh, oh, God. I do remember. Oh, dear God!"  
"I'm not yelling! Er, uh, look, Abraham, I'll be home as soon as I can. I'm leaving my office now."

Henry hangs up, jumps up and trades his white lab coat for his top coat and scarf. A new scarf he had recently purchased in order to impress Jo. Oh, fal-de-rol to that! He makes his way quickly out of his office and as he rushes past Lucas, he apologizes for leaving early but that there is a family emergency. It isn't exactly a lie, he tells himself. It's an old emergency that has reared its ugly head so many times in his long and complicated past: he may have to suddenly disappear, move somewhere else and start a new life. Either with or without Abraham.


	2. Safety Net Ch 3 to 10

3

Jo and Hanson slide into a comfortable, cushy booth in the oldfashioned diner with its warm 50's-era decor. She likes the old-timey jukebox that is really a very large radio tuned to the oldies station, piping in song classics from doo-wop to disco. In her mind's eye, she sees Henry in the iconic John Travolta 70's get up shaking his groove thang across the floor under a silvery disco ball. Then she sees him in elaborate 18th century period dress, dancing the minuet. She closes her eyes and shakes her head to empty it of the ridiculous images. The server, a young man with a much-too-current hairstyle and overly eager friendliness, takes their order.

"Hey," Hanson says, breaking into her thoughts. "Ya think maybe we should have what he's drinking?" He eyes the young man's quickly retreating form, laughs softly and shakes his head. "Sooooo," he continues, "Regarding Henry..."

Jo meets him with a glare. Clearly she is not amused at Hanson's reference to the Harrison Ford movie of the same name. "Well, we know about Henry." Hanson gives her a "really?" look. She qualifies it with, "I mean we know that he is not a criminal, not a bad guy. My gut tells me to check out Barnes and Larson, though." Hanson ponders it a few seconds and nods in agreement. "Maybe," she mutters, "we can nip this immortal hunting in the bud."

"I'll take Larson, you take Barnes." Hanson offers. Jo nods in agreement. They both lean back, moving their hands out of the way as their large mugs of steaming coffee arrive and they both take a quick sip.

"And we google the Doc, too, right?" he continues even though he knows he's treading dangerous waters with Jo where Henry is concerned. He's met with silence. He straightens up spreading his hands. "Look, Jo, I know ya got feelings for the guy and all but if there's something, anything in his past that might come back to bite him, bite US in the-"

"At this point, just concentrate on Barnes and Larson." Jo says, cutting him off. She looks at Hanson who still looks perplexed, and relents a little. "OK, if, and I mean, IF we dig up something on those two that might involve Henry, then...we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." She sullenly takes another sip of her coffee that has cooled off somewhat. She also tries to stave off the pangs of guilt because she DOES intend to "google" the Doc. She offers an unspoken apology to Henry and glumly rolls her new moniker around in her mind: Judas.

Hanson sets his empty cup down and wipes his mouth with his napkin. "We'd better get back to the office and get started, then. There's also the toxicology report on Jane Doe 462 that we have to look over." Jo abandons her half-finished coffee, now cold. They settle their bill and head back to the precinct.

Earlier at Abe's Antiques...

Abe doesn't watch TV a lot, especially in the mornings what with all the depressing news being reported. He entertains himself in other ways (learning a new recipe, reading, listening to jazz, hanging out with his old Army buddies). However, after a customer came in (and left without buying anything) blathering about a guy on the news claiming to be immortal (or maybe he was just some guy off the street overly excited at the news), he promptly turned the Open sign to Closed and locked the shop's door.

He shuffled up the stairs to his second-floor bedroom at the end of the hall as quickly as his 70-year-old legs would carry him. He switched on the old black and white TV on his dresser and watched the screen flicker to life. (He was temporarily amazed that the ancient equipment still worked). The live announcement had concluded, but he managed to catch the tail end of a rerun of Dr. Reuben Barnes' remarks. Something about how to spot an immortal and urging them to contact him at some guinea pig hotel in upstate New York! Crap!

Abe immediately thought of his father. He knew that if Henry knew about this, too, he would most likely freak out. Abe turned down the TV and used the phone on his nightstand to call him at his office in the city morgue. Henry's phone rang and rang and caught the voicemail. Frustrated, he hung up and redialed. Again with the ringing and no answering. Where was Henry? Just as he was about to hang up and redial, Henry answered. "Yessss, hello," his tone flat and tired.

"Henry. What took you so long to pick up? You sound terrible."

"Oh. Hello, Abraham."

"Hey, there was this guy on the news a little while ago claiming to be-"

"Yes, I saw the Barnes and Larson circus on TV this morning!"

"Look, I was just worried about you. Stop yelling!"

"I'm not yelling! (silence) I'm not yelling...my apologies."

"OK, OK, I, ah, I think I recognize that Barnes guy."

"What?!"

"Yeah, yeah, there was a Barnes family that lived next door when we lived on East Lucien, remember?"

"No, I don't remember any Barnes family - ohhh, oh, God. I do remember. Oh, dear God!"

"You're yelling again."

"I'm not yelling!"

"Henryyyy, get a hold of yourself."

"Er, uh, look, Abraham, I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Are you sure you need to do that?"

"I'm leaving my office now."

Abe sighed as the call ended with a hasty click. He stared at the phone for a few moments and went back to the TV to turn it up again. The newscasters were interviewing their so-called experts now, putting their own spin on "this most extraordinary news of the day." Abe folded his arms across his chest and laughed to himself, thinking, _'Extraordinary? Extraordinary? Try living with an immortal your whole life, ha ha! You guys don't know zilch!'_ And he turns the TV off with a hard twist of the knob.

He exits his bedroom and makes his way to the small but cozy kitchen to prepare a comforting meal for his father once he got home. He dreaded the coming conversation and eventual argument about leaving (running and hiding) versus staying (and fighting). His father could be so stubborn at his best, obtuse at his worst, whenever he and Abe disagreed on something. Lately, it's been his refusal to disclose his secret to Jo, no matter how many times Abe had urged him to. No matter how many times he had assured his father that Jo could be trusted. She would believe him. She would accept him. Because she loves him, for Pete's sake! And he loves her.

The shop's bell tinkled and he knew that his father was home. As he heard Henry's hurried footsteps across the shop's floor and then on the stairs leading up to the kitchen, he braced himself for what was to come. _'Better make a pot of strong tea. And break out the whiskey.'_ he thought. He was determined to defy his father and prevent him from running - at all costs.

vvvv

4

Jo and Hanson compare the toxicology report on Jane Doe 462 to her autopsy report. As homicide detectives, they've seen a lot of these reports but they really are much easier to understand when explained by a medical or technical professional. Henry was most likely prepared to deliver his spiel when he left the tox report earlier. That is, before he was chased off after seeing the strange TV broadcast of a man declaring to the world that he is immortal. She hands the reports to Hanson who's been hovering over her right shoulder and sits down at her desk.

"We need to talk to the Doc about these," Hanson mutters as he studies the report. "If it bleeds, it leads, as the newscasters say."

Jo understands the unspoken meaning: uncovering the mystery of Jane Doe 462 supercedes delving into the mystery of Henry Morgan. Reports in hand, they head down to the morgue.

Jo and Hanson enter the morgue to speak with Henry but are dismayed to see his empty office. They approach Lucas and greet the assistant ME, who sits at his small workspace, deep in thought. He looks up at the detectives, then nervously back at Henry's empty office and back at the detectives. His more than six-foot, lanky frame slowly rises as his mouth opens and closes, and finally he says, "Uh, hey, detectives. If you're looking for Henry, uh, he's not here. He left a little over an hour ago. Some type of family emergency. I-Is there anything I can help you with?" His voice cracks and the last few words come out an entire register higher. His fragile wall of calmness cracks, as well, as he absent-mindedly pats and re-pats his large hands on either side of his long torso.

Hanson exchanges knowing looks with Jo and holds the reports up. "We need to talk to the Doc about JD462 and these reports on her."

"Lucas," Jo asks, "is there anything you can tell us?"

"Okay, well," he begins slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "aside from what the Doc has already told you about her age (20's) and race (African-American), she has a very athletic physique of average height, but gained and lost weight in recent months."

Jo: "Yo-yo dieting?"

Hanson: "Stomach stapling? An eating disorder?"

Lucas: "Pregnancy and childbirth. Recently."

Realization and doom wash over the detectives at the possibility of a newborn being out there, somewhere, without its mother and with God knows whom. That's _if_ the baby survived. But hope springs eternal, right? So maybe that's a clue for them to follow. When and where did she give birth? Certainly not in the shallow grave where she was found, inside of a large garbage bag.

They all shudder at what may have been her horrific final hours. First, enduring an increasingly uncomfortable gestation period, then the hard pains of labor, only to become a new mother and possibly a murder victim. Henry believed, initially, that she did not die from the strange burns. However, he concluded that they were inflicted by someone using a blowtorch.

 _The morgue, two months earlier..._

 _"Depending on how hot the flame is," Henry began, "and how long it's held to the body, a blowtorch would inflict quite a ghastly burn. Ten seconds or longer could result in third-degree burns as seen on our victim here." He continued, simultaneously spreading his arms and raising a pointed finger as he usually did while sharing his professional opinion in his thick, lyrical, Welsh accent (and unbeknownst to them, his firsthand knowledge of having endured such injuries). "Such injuries not only cause the obvious burns but the flesh is literally blasted away and destroyed, leaving these deep, burned-out gashes."_

 _"Geez!" Hanson blurted out, frowning in disgust and taking a couple steps back from the body._

 _"Wow." Jo marveled and looked away, anywhere but at the victim, in a seeming attempt to distance her mind and emotions from the knowledge of such a brutal attack. "Tha-that – must have been - painful beyond imagination. Poor girl." She struggled to hold back the tears._

 _Henry quickly responded, "Oddly, maybe not as painful as you might think. You see, the nerves and deeper skin tissues are completely destroyed. But, yes, it still hurts." His voice trailed off, as Jo recalled, as he silently fell into another of his mysterious memory fogs. She recalled wondering where he went to in those moments; what was behind the tired sadness in those chocolate-brown eyes._

 _"So, lemme get this straight, Doc," Hanson asked, "whoever burned her face, hands and feet, was trying to-" he doesn't finish._

 _"-make it difficult, if not impossible, to identify her." Henry finished Hanson's thought. "Yes, detective. As I stated initially, I do not believe the burns were the COD. I can let you know more conclusively after we complete our autopsy on her and receive the results of toxicology and other tests."_

Morgue, present day...

Jo speculates that Henry was going to share this latest information with them earlier today. Her detective's mind is clicking and she doesn't want to impede its progress towards the next step in the investigation. She looks first to Hanson on her right, then across the small workspace to Lucas. "We really need to speak with Henry about all this. Do you know when he will be back?" she asks.

Lucas stutteringly replies, "W-well, he, uh, didn't exactly say...well, he didn't say...exactly. He, he seemed pretty upset after a phone call. I mean, he was pretty upset right before he got the phone call, and, and...," his voice trails off and his arms flop-drop to his sides. In a more hushed town he says, "I just don't know. He zoomed out of here like he was running to a fire."

 _'Or running from one,'_ Jo concludes to herself. "Do you know who was on the other end of the call?"

"Apparently, it was Abe, his roommate. Look, I shouldn't have been listening, I **mean** ," he abruptly corrects himself, "I only _accidentally_ overheard his end of the call."

Hanson smirks slightly and asks, "Did you 'accidentally' hear what they were discussing?"

Jo quickly adds, "Yeah, what could Abe have said that upset him so? Did something happen to Abe? Is that the family emergency?" Jo has developed quite an affection for the curmudgeonly antique store owner and wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him. She's enjoyed both his cooking and his company on several occasions over the past few months as both she and Henry have also inexplicably and unwittingly grown closer. Who knew that only a little over a year after Sean's death, that the heartbreak of losing him would be healed just enough for her to welcome the two mysterious men into her life? Abe treats her more like a daughter – and she likes that. She allows that. His caring nature envelopes her and makes her feel safe. Her own father, who chose to live his life on the other side of her badge, has never made her feel that way. Even though she's still not quite clear on how Abe is related to Henry, she envies Henry's years of having lived in close proximity to him. If she's concerned about Abe after knowing him for only a few months, she can only imagine Henry's heightened concern, prompting him to leave work so suddenly.

"Oh," Jo begins, "maybe we should call Abe to find out what this emergency could have been and when Henry might be back."

"No need for that, Detective." Henry's unmistakable Welsh accent lilts into the morgue behind them, and causes Lucas to almost yelp out, "Boss!" The detectives turn their heads toward him and watch as he saunters into the morgue in his usual dapper suit, scarf and all.

They all watch as he walks past them with that familiar half-smile, enters his office, doffs his top coat and scarf and dons his white lab coat. He exits his office and walks over to stand by Lucas. He clasps his hands behind his back, squares his shoulders and raises his chin. "So good to see you all. Now," he begins, as he looks from one detective to the other, "where were we?"

 **Notes:**

Gruesome as they are, the blowtorch injury information was found on a site called . The query by tinyham and replies by FalseGod and casdave provided me with enough to insert the two-month-old flashback into this chapter. The case of JD462 will be solved in the next two chapters. Is Adam connected to the crime? To Barnes and/or Larson? Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see.

As you can tell, Abe was able to calm his father down and bring him back to earth. Abe, the dutiful, stalwart son.

Thank you to all who have followed the story so far. I'm new to this site and still struggling with the Notes part of it, i.e., making sure previous chapters' notes do not appear on current chapters.

vvvv

5

"Abraham!" Henry bellows anxiously as he hurries up the stairs to the kitchen.

"So much for preparing a comforting meal." Abe mutters to himself.

"Where are you? Abraham, where - oh, there you are." Henry spots Abe standing near the kitchen island. He quickly closes the distance between them all the while windmilling his arms as he demands his passports. He suddenly turns and marches into his bedroom. Abe hears him bellow again for his passports and that he needs to run.

Abe listens as he stands with one hand on his hip and the other planted on the counter. He hangs his head, closes his eyes and steadies his breathing. _'Why? Why do you have to overreact like this, Dad? I swear there are times when I -'_

He hears the bureau and nightstand drawers being yanked open, rifled through and slammed shut. He hears the closet door roll open on its track and after a few minutes, it rolls back with a loud bump. All the while Henry still bellows his son's name; that he needs his passport and his already-packed, quick getaway suitcase (dash-bag, they had nicknamed it in happier times).

The bellows continue. Abe is reminded of the giant in the Jack and the Beanstalk tale. _'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum... How do I get through to this English-mun?'_ He almost smiles at his own clever new ending of the phrase.

Henry stalks back into the kitchen, breathless from his rantings and fruitless search. His face is flushed a bright pink above his meticulously trimmed 3 o'clock shadow. His dark, wavy curls have lost a bit of their tameness. He slowly steps toward Abe, his head slightly bent down, his gaze intent. "Where...are...my...passports...and...dash...bag?"

Abe maintains his stance but remains silent. _'Like the defiant child, he is.'_ Henry thinks.

Henry is at Abe's left elbow now and repeats the question in a sterner fatherly tone. But Abe merely turns to squarely face his father. Henry's patience is wearing thin now. He's also confused because Abe, of all people, should understand the urgency of the situation. "Abe, look, I need those things so I can -"

"- so you can run. " Abe quickly but quietly interrupts. "Lay low, outlive, move on."

Henry winces at his son's tone, laced with tired sarcasm. "Abe -"

"No! _You_ listen to _**me**_ for a change!" Abe blurts out, his voice louder than he intended. He punctuates his last remark by pointing first at Henry, then to himself. Henry steps closer and opens his mouth to reply, but Abe cuts him off. "And I mean, _really listen_ , Dad." Henry reluctantly closes his mouth but maintains the stern fatherly look, his eyes piercing Abe's.

Now that Abe is sure he has his father's full attention, he begins to slowly pace around the kitchen island as he speaks, fully aware of Henry's eyes following him.

"You're overreacting, but that's not unusual for you. Damn, you can be such a coward sometimes! I call you to tell you that Dr. Reuben Barnes from the TV news story _looks_ familiar and next thing I know you rush home with your shorts in a knot ready to hightail it outta here and leave everything you've worked for behind. Everything you've built up these past several years; everyone who loves you, behind. I don't know if you really love any of us here or not. You sure don't act like it. Not if you do this, Dad.

"I love you. I've always loved you. I always will. But I guess that's not enough for you."

"Abraham!" Henry shouts.

"No! No! You listen!" Abe shouts louder, determined to finish. "It's not enough that Jo loves you or that you love her. Yeah! You LOVE her. You're too much of a _coward_ to admit that, too! You just - you just - ," (he flails his arms around) "frustrate the heck outta me, Pops!"

Abe feels the tears burning at his eyes now. Henry's stern look has melted off of his face and he slowly sits down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Years of built up frustration with his father's stubbornness and paranoia cause him to ignore the wilt of Henry's demeanor. He's on autopilot now, coating his words with bile and venom from deep within. Bad memories and years of repressed hurt and anger add ugly weight to his present disappointment with his father.

"I'm 70 years old. I'm old! I'm tired! You want to continue to drag me around to parts unknown when YOU get scared off. I can't do that anymore, Pops! You don't realize that you have something GOOD here now. You have Jo! The people you work with. I - can't - believe - you want to give all that up without even knowing if the 'Barnes and Larson circus', as you call it, is gonna roll over on you or not.

"It's selfish." Abe drops his voice. Then raises it back up. "It's selfish of you to take yourself away from us. Away from Jo! Away from ME! Stay and fight this thing out if there IS to be a fight. You fought Adam and won." Henry makes a move as if to protest. Abe raises his hand and shouts, "No! You won! Why don't you think about the positive things in your life for a change, for God's sake?" He walks towards Henry and bends forward to emphasize his last words.

"You leave...and...you listen to me: you leave and I won't care where you wind up. Don't ever contact me again. I mean it, Pops. And when I kiss this world good-bye (he pauses, his breath shaky now, tears brimming over his eyes and down his cheeks), DO NOT BOTHER TO CREEP TO MY FUNERAL AND PEEP FROM BEHIND A TREE. Because I won't be your son anymore. If you leave. I won't. And don't ever visit my gravesite."

"You wanna leave? Well, here." Abe quickly marches into the sitting room and retrieves Henry's dash-bag and passports where he had hidden them earlier and returns with them. "Leave then." He growls through gritted teeth. He throws the dash-bag onto the floor and kicks it over towards Henry's feet. He then flings the passports across the kitchen table and they wind up almost perfectly in front of Henry.

Henry reacts as though Abe had actually kicked him. As if Abe had flung his love for him away, as well. He has never, ever heard his son speak to him this way. His words truly cut like a knife. He felt the need to run...because...well, to protect his secret and to protect Abe from unscrupulous individuals. Right? Tears begin to drop onto his hands and he realizes he has been crying, too. Of course, he loves his son. Loves him dearly. Always have and always will. But is Abe right? Is it possible that he is just a coward, a selfish coward, thinking only of himself? If he had not allowed himself to grow close to anyone outside of Abe...would he still leave? His son is right. He's getting too old to trapse around here and there with him at a moment's notice, whenever he felt threatened. Abe should have some rest in his golden years. It IS time to let Jo in - to trust her. Guilt and shame wash over him in alternating waves of nausea. How could he be so thoughtless? Abe's harsh words oddly have a calming effect. He stands up and picks up the dash-bag and passports. He doesn't move, though, as he senses that Abe has more to say.

"Stay, Dad." Abe is across the room but facing Henry. His voice quiet and calm, his tears brushed away, but his face pinched. "Stay here with us - with me. Please. Don't make our lives together end that other way. I'm proud to be your son. Proud. Remember what you said Mom told you once? 'Life is about the journey.' Well, our journey hasn't ended yet, Pops. Whatever this turns out to be, we can get through it - together. You have Jo and the entire NYPD to help you now."

Henry places the dash-bag in the chair and lays the passports back onto the table. He slowly walks over to Abe and without stopping, embraces him in the tightest bearhug he can manage. Abe returns the embrace. Henry closes his eyes and says softly, "I'm not going anywhere, Abe. You're right. Everything you said is true. He plants a kiss on the top of Abe's head and pulls back. He looks loving at his son. "Forgive me?" he pleadingly asks, his mouth turned up in a painful smile.

Abe throws his arms around his father again and muffles into his shoulder, "You bet, Pops."

The two men give each other final pats on the backs and separate. Abe walks into the sitting room and sits on the couch. Henry sits next to him. They sit for several minutes and breathe in the calm that has returned to them both. Henry breaks the silence with a small smile and a raised eyebrow towards his son. "That was really something, Abraham."

"Yeah. I know." Abe agrees, grinning sheepishly.

Henry knits his brow and leans back. "Um, this Reuben Barnes -" he begins.

"Let's talk about that later, Pops, OK? Don't worry. There is no way anyone in the Barnes family knew anything about you. That's why I got so angry with you, the way you jumped the gun..." He stops himself and looks down at his clasped hands. "Anyway, we can talk about it later, like I said. Say, don't you have a Jane Doe to worry about in the morgue?"

Henry suddenly sits forward and quickly stands up. "Yes. Yes, thank you, Abraham, for reminding me. I should be getting back to work. There is so much to tell the detectives," he says, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth. He flashes that dazzling smile of his and proclaims, "We're going to solve the case of this poor woman if it kills me." He turns and quickly makes his way down the stairs and out of the shop as he bellows over his shoulder (this time happily), "I'll see you later, Abraham!"

"Bye, Pops!" Abe bellows back and a wide grin grows over his face. He takes a much-needed deep breath and decides to take a nap on the couch. Lunch can wait, he tells himself. Raggin' on his old man took more out of him than he bargained for. He stretches out, closes his eyes and mutters, "Don't say stuff like 'if it kills me', Pops." He drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

vvvv

6

Back at the precinct...

Hanson leans back in his chair at his desk, right hand poised on his mouse as he stares at his computer screen. From time to time he clicks on a link and stares intently as the resultant information fills the screen. His eyes skim over it as he scrolls downward. Items which appear to be most pertinent to the blowtorch case cause him to lean forward as the fingers of his left hand rub across his forehead. Occasionally he breathes out an "O-kayyyy" then rises from his chair and makes the short walk to the printer in order to retrieve a printed document. He returns to his desk and repeats the ritual.

Jo mimics his actions at her own desk but instead of rubbing her hand across her forehead, she sits bolt upright in her chair, her head tilted forward as she also stares intently at the screen. Her "Mm-hmm's" are an echo to Hanson's "O-kayyyy's".

They finally place their documents into a manila folder and head down to the morgue. On the way, they discuss their individual findings and they are buoyed by what they feel are now good leads. They speculate if any of it will be enough for Henry to help them profile the type of person who would put a blowtorch to another person; what type of blowtorch was used; and where/how it may have been obtained.

Back in the morgue, Lucas stealthily casts occasional glances at his boss who feigns unawareness. Henry is too immersed in finalizing his notes on the autopsy report to pay much attention to Lucas' odd behavior (again). Even though he feels he can adequately surmise how the victim met her gruesome end, he can't help but envy her. Envy her for the end - not the gruesomeness. The fact that she _came_ to the _end_ of her lifespan. Indeed, he envies anyone who walks that final mile of existence and transitions to another plane. _'I want to grow old.'_ He remembers lamenting to Abe several weeks ago. For the past few months, he's come to realize that he wants to grow old with _Jo_. He's painfully aware that unless something drastically changes as far as his - condition - that that lovely scenario is still an impossibility. Her image, her essence, invades his thoughts and takes him on a short, but pleasant romp through his own private what-could-be land. He closes his eyes and smiles. Smiles even more as he also remembers Abe taking him to task earlier at the shop for not letting Jo know about his secret; for not letting Jo know about his love for her. _'Kids say the darndest things, according to the late Art Linkletter'._ Henry shakes his head slightly as he rises from his chair. He leaves the report on his desk to walk out of his office into the morgue where his young assistant, Lucas, pretends to be engrossed in his comic - ah - graphic novels. As soon as he reaches the door, though, his path is blocked by Lucas.

Lucas knows he is doing a poor job of hiding his guilt over having eavesdropped on Henry's earlier phone conversation with Abe. At first he was elated to see his boss return in good humor and resume control of the autopsy. Now he feels the urge to come clean.

"Lucas?" Henry queries, confusion written on his face. He looks up at the young man whose near-NBA athletic proportions seem to tower over his own 5'11" frame. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Lucas opens his mouth but only manages to release a sigh of exasperation. Henry cocks his head to the side, lowers it, and steps aside to allow his young assistant to enter his office. Lucas quickly makes his way in and stiffly seats himself in one of the chairs facing Henry's desk. Henry closes and locks the door and draws the blinds close. "Now. What's on your mind?" He quickly pats Lucas' left shoulder as he passes him to sit behind his desk.

"I need to apologize," he begins slowly, "for eavesdropping on you earlier." Lucas runs a hand through his neatly-coifed, straight brown hair; unable to allow his blue eyes to meet Henry's. Lucas feels he can't look directly at Henry because those amazingly wide eyes and elevated powers of observation ( _and those Jedi mind tricks of his_ ) will leave him too transparent and rob him of coherent speech or thought. So he concentrates on the manila folder that contains the autopsy report. "I heard you groan and I got concerned so -", he pauses - "I kinda hung closer to your door and heard more of your conversation than I should have." The last words come out in a rush. He closes his eyes, inhales again and expells the air in a great rush, as well. _'There. I told him.'_ He feels relief at first, then, just as quickly, regret. ' _I'm gonna be fired. Man, this is not good. I really, really, really need this job and I really, really, really like working here with-'_

"Thank you, Lucas," Henry states with genuine sincerity, "for your honesty. You needn't have worried, though." He gives Lucas that lop-sided smile of his. "As it turns out there was no real emergency and I simply overreacted to something that Abraham mentioned during our conversation." He lowers his head to hide his embarrassment and adds, "We both know that the only reason you overheard is because I conducted my end of the conversation with all the civility of an elephant at a tea party." Henry abruptly freezes as he realizes that that last descriptor might be a tad arcane, probably drawing suspicion towards him. ' _Note to self: must endeavor to use more up-to-date colloquialisms'._ He manages, however, to maintain a calm exterior as Lucas now appears more visibly relaxed.

"Thanks, Boss." Lucas sighs out with a faint grin. They sit in silence for a few moments until Lucas' cell phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket and reads a text message. "Uhhh, yeahhh," he draws out as he reads it and texts back his reply. He suddenly looks up at Henry. "Oh, sorry. That was a text from a buddy in missing persons." He speaks as he slowly rises from his chair. "He may have something on our vic. Hope you don't mind I contacted him earlier while you were out of the office. Remember, it was an MPR that helped us to ID the bones that belonged to Belinda Smoot a while back, so..." Lucas chooses to stop right there, as he remembers how deeply affected Henry was by that recent case. Especially after the discovery of the bones of Abe's mother. Huh, Abe's mother. He never quite got the whole story on that and because of Henry's need to perpetually construct his wall of secrecy as if it were the Winchester Mystery House, Lucas has resigned himself to the fact that he may never know the whole story. But he's grateful for Henry's acceptance of his apology along with Henry's explaining a smidgen of something personal. Makes him feel that they have trod new ground together, hopefully in their budding friendship; certainly in their work relationship.

"On the contrary, Lucas, your observations and input are highly valued." He emphasizes the statement by punching a thumbs up in Lucas' direction.

Lucas looks a bit awestruck. ' _Henry Morgan giving me praise? Wow.'_

"Carry on," Henry continues, "and let us know of your findings as soon as possible."

"Uh, thanks." Lucas manages as he grins from ear to ear. "Uh, yeah, soon as I - yeah, yeah."

Conversation ended, both men exit the office. Henry watches Lucas lope towards the elevator. He can't help but feel somewhat guilty, though, because he has never been totally honest with Lucas. The younger man admires him, he acknowledges, and he feels unworthy. Out of nowhere he thinks, _'I must tell him about me some day.'_ Henry is at once astonished at his own words and wonders why the thought came so easily to him. He finds his answer in Abe's words that echo in his ears again, stinging but accurate, reminding him that he enjoys his work here these past several years. He enjoys the comraderie of colleagues: Jo, of course, but also Hanson, Reece and Lucas. _'Should I tell each of them about me? Am I comfortable with that?'_ He realizes that for the first time in nearly a century, yes, he is. He feels - brave. And a little excited. Well, more than a little excited at the prospect of expanding his small circle of friends beyond Abe. He's almost giddy at the prospect.

There have been many times in his long past when his secret was accidentally revealed to others and it did not end well for him. His late wife, Abigail, however, had found out accidentally and had still loved him. Dear, sweet Abigail. Their adopted son, Abe, was a teenager when he realized that his mother, Abigail, appeared to age along with most of his friends' parents, but his father, Henry, did not. He had confronted them with questions and Henry and Abigail had finally explained his "long story" to Abe. And, like Abigail, Abe had still loved and accepted Henry. That is, after a month-long period of awkwardness and a game of seemingly one million questions. But Henry knows that the timing is not quite right. They are so close to solving the case of this latest Jane Doe currently identified by only a number: 462.

DING! Henry shoves his thoughts to the back of his mind as Jo and Hanson exit the elevator and make their way into the morgue.

"Hello, Detectives." He motions them into his office and seats himself behind his desk once more.

"Hey, Doc." Hanson greets him by raising the manila folder he's holding. "Got ya blowtorch smorgasbord here." He steps into the office behind Jo who smiles a "Hey, Henry." to him and they both take a seat. She looks over at Hanson and shakes her head in disapproval. He looks away and mutters an apology. His crude remark garners a look of even greater disapproval from Henry. He squirms uncomfortably in his chair and says, "OK, OK. Sorry. This case has kinda gotten to me, ya know? Guess I'm doin' a bad job of trying to keep my emotions from runnin' away from me. I mean, I got two kids myself and I can't imagine that little baby just bein' snatched from its mother like that and..." He grows quiet and looks over at Jo whose expression has softened towards him.

Henry allows Hanson time to compose himself. He longs to confide to Hanson that he understands because he is also a father. _'Soon, perhaps', he thinks'._ "At any rate, Detective," he begins, "in my opinion, the blowtorch used was the kind that artists use. There were traces of art resin on her forearms as if she had come in contact with it and had done a poor job of removing it from her skin. Her lungs also showed signs of inflammation most likely from inhaling the substance over a period of time. You see, -"

"She was sniffin' this stuff?" Hanson breaks in, a look of incredulity on his face. Jo's jaw drops as she stares at Henry, her eyes begging him for a different conclusion.

"As I was about to sayyyy," Henry eyes them both like a professor retaking control after his lecture has been interrupted, "depending upon the type of epoxy resin and hardner used, the person must don protective gear such as goggles, gloves and some type of respirator over their mouth and nose in order to prevent inhalation of the toxic fumes. Proper ventilation is also necessary in order to avoid the debilitating health effects such as our victim suffered." His eyes drop to view the manila folder containing the autopsy report and pats his hand on it in an unconscious effort to soothe the deceased.

"So not a baker or a chef." Jo thinks out loud.

"And not a construction worker or welder." Hanson sighs, looking at the folder of apparently now useless information they had found on the Internet about uses for a blowtorch.

"More likely an artist or an art student." Henry offers.

Hanson: "Her perpetrator could be, too."

Jo nods in agreement.

Henry: "There are several reputable art schools and universities in New York City. The blowtorch could also have been used to produce art in a private residence."

They ponder the possibilities and brainstorm on the next best move in their investigation when Lucas bursts into the morgue. His long legs quickly cover the length of the morgue and he rushes up to Henry's desk.

"Valerie Nayanja Nelson." He passes the Missing Person's Report to Henry as he continues to recite its contents. "Age 22, single, born and raised in Queens, dropped out of art school about a year ago. Reported missing by her roommate, Cheryl Biggams, who said Valerie was going to get paid big bucks for being a surrogate mother for an unknown, childless couple. Apparently, Ms. Biggams was more concerned with getting Valerie's share of the rent than she was for Valerie's safety. Not that she didn't care about her, she said she didn't feel Valerie was in any danger since she was being cared for by this couple. Who knows," he speculates, "maybe she changed her mind and decided to keep the baby?"

"Maybe this unknown, childless couple didn't like that so much, huh?" Hanson adds.

"We go talk to Ms. Biggams, then." Jo says, her mouth set in a thin line. She gets the roommate's address from the MPR. Both she and Hanson rise to leave. "You coming, Henry?"

"Absolutely, Detective." Henry answers with a mock-serious look on his face. Jo grins and rolls her eyes.

As the trio leave, Lucas slowly walks to his workstation and sits down, murmuring forlornly, "Thank you, Lucas. Good _job_ , Lucas." He shrugs. "Take the rest of the day off, Lucas." He sighs and picks up one of his graphic novels. Then he hears Henry's Robin-Hoodish voice saying, "By the way, well done, Lucas! It's fine with me if you want to leave early." Henry nods once, turns and jogs into the elevator with Jo and Hanson who have been holding the door for him.

A smile slowly creeps over his lips and he locks up his workstation and walks towards the elevator. _'Well done, Lucas! Yep, leavin' early. Muh boss, muh buddy said so.'_

Across town in a Bellevue hospital room, a silent figure lies in bed. His slender body's muscles and voice unable to respond to his desperate commands. His short, brown hair freshly washed and groomed. His mind, however, is very much alert. As a chatty nurse in her 50's with a nasaly voice and an annoying affinity for the phrase, _'Ya knowww?'_ checked his vitals that morning, she had turned on his overhead TV to an astonishing news report of a man claiming to be - immortal. But it wasn't Henry. Another immortal? But Not Henry? Adam thought that after more than 2000 years there were no more surprises in store for him (other than when he found out about Henry). He wonders - has wondered all day - what the younger immortal thinks of all this. Was Henry going to be found out now? Would _he_ in turn be found out? If only he could break free of this physical inconvenience. He cursed his inability to take control of his own body. He cursed Henry again...and again...and again. But he had to find a way out of this. He had to learn who Ben Larson was and if he was truly an immortal. He had to know. He...had to know.

 **Notes:**

This chapter took longer to write because of the research that had to be done in order to try to bring out details on the crime of the Jane Doe. I gave a major look to a video on YouTube. No that discussed epoxy resin and blowtorch use in art and the mixing of such. I think my hair is more white now. Please read and leave comments. Thank you.

vvvv

7

The apartment that the victim, Valerie Nelson, had shared with Cheryl Biggams was just a few blocks away from the precinct on a pleasant, tree-lined street in a newly-renovated, three-story red brick building. As Jo drove the short distance and parked, she made a mental note of how much the neighborhood had changed in just a few short years _. 'Gentrification',_ she scoffed to herself. She wonders how many people have been misplaced as a result of the still ongoing new construction and renovations which ultimately demand higher rents and mortgages which in _turn_ require tenants with deeper pockets than those with fixed or minimum-waged incomes.

Jo, Hanson, and Henry exit her police car and make their way across the street to the building. She suddenly realizes that Henry has been strangely silent during the ride. "What, no lecture on the changing landscape, architecture, and populace in this part of town, Henry?" she asks with a smirk of a smile. When he fails to respond, she looks over at him only to find him at the sidewalk's edge slowly turning around, lost in thought as he takes in his surroundings. The look on his face indicates that he's entertaining fond memories. Jo calls to him to snap him out of his reverie. He at first looks a bit startled, then apologetic as he catches up to them. Hanson is already ringing the buzzer.

"C'mon, Doc," Hanson prods, "lecture us. You know you're just dyin' to."

Hanson's innocent but poor choice of words grate upon Henry's sensibilities. He eyes Hanson for a second and calmly states, "A story for another time, Detective." Obviously, he can't divulge to them his familiarity with the once ramshackle area because of the many poor patients he tended to during his time in a free clinic in the 1960's.

The buzzer answered, Jo announces themselves and the entry door opens. They walk in and knock on Apt 1B. A young woman in her early 20's with short, brown hair wearing yoga pants and an oversized NY Jets jersey, opens the door and lets them in after they "badge up" to her. _'Amer-Asian,'_ Henry automatically begins to observe and note. _'Recently unemployed and enduring an unsuccessful job search.'_ He takes in the unkempt condition of the livingroom. _'Starting to get a bit depressed.'_ A newspaper on the coffee table lies open to the classified section with several job notices circled in black, many of them crossed out in red. Not uncommon in today's economy, he laments, that job seekers soon become discouraged at finding a plethora of low-paying jobs with terrible work hours. After a few weeks they run out of steam and literally take up residence on their couch. Their legitimate job search, slowly usurped by TV, junk food, and Facebook games, gradually slides into a quiet desperation. Henry can't help but feel a tinge of guilt because no matter how many times he has uprooted and fled elsewhere, sometimes with a new identity, he has always managed to find sustainable employment, usually in his chosen field of medicine. His attention is immediately drawn to the young woman as he hears her speak about the mysterious couple.

"All I know is that the woman was, is, an artist and she was kind of letting Val help her with her weird artwork. Something to do with a blowtorch and some chemicals, which I told Val sounded unhealthy...for her and the baby...and dangerous. Val was all excited to learn that technique. I was like, whatever. She could be so pigheaded at times." She wrings her hands and sighs, a worried frown on her face. "I miss her, OK? She's...she...was...good people. Her parents died in a car crash about a year ago and she was an only child. She never spoke of any other family. Oh! I can't believe I'm talking about her in the past tense!" She looks up and shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes. Henry places his neatly-folded, monogrammed, white handkerchief into her hands. She offers a weak smile to him as thanks and wipes her eyes.

"What about the guy? Did she ever say anything about him? How he looks, where he works?" Jo softly asks.

"Well, after a while, she began to always smile when she spoke of him. If you ask me, she had gotten in over her head. I mean she began to think that she wanted to keep the baby for herself and...", her voice trailed off to a whisper, "live happily ever after with that guy, you know?" She barks a laugh and slaps her knee. "Now, pigheaded as she was, she would not listen to me, that that kind of thinking was just - plain - silly. Turns out it was dangerous, right?" She barks a laugh again and shakes her head, tears flowing more freely.

"You don't think the guy shared her desire for the three of them to be a family, then?" Jo asks. Jo just can't bring herself to call this guy a man. She pushes her personal feelings down and manages to maintain her professional manner.

"No, no!" Cheryl exclaims. "I never even **saw** him and I could tell from what she told me, that he was scheming on her." Her voice shaky with anger now, her jaw set. "He just wanted to humor her - "

"-so that she would relinquish the child at end of their agreement." Henry gently finishes for her. Cheryl looks up at him, her mouth still open, then she closes it and quickly nods.

Jo leans forward. "I know you said that you never saw either the woman or him, but do you have any idea of where they were they taking care of Val?"

"No," Cheryl draws out as if recalling something, "but she said it was hard to breathe sometimes, wherever it was. She began to have these breathing attacks like asthma or something. I told her to go get some medication from the doctor, but they had convinced her that it was better for the baby if she just had OTC meds because prescription meds would be too harsh. Man! She just wouldn't listen to me, to reason."

"How did she get the meds?" Hanson queries.

"HE always bought them for her. You know, those OTC meds are not as effective as the prescription stuff." She blinks a couple of times as if having a revelation. "Wait. Wait. She mentioned once that after he got her the OTC inhaler, they had a pastrami sandwich - she craved them - from the deli across the street. What was the name of that deli - ?" She closes her eyes tightly and breathes deeply. Her eyes pop open. "Sam's Deli on West 20th. There's a Rite-Aid right across the street from it!" She smiles in triumph at each of them. Her smile quickly fades. "How could they have done that to her? Why didn't they just take her to court like that other couple did with their surrogate a few years ago? You know the case in Ohio. The surrogate wound up having to give the child to the couple but nobody died!" She heaves a big sigh and begins to cry again. She wipes her eyes with Henry's handkerchief. She then blows her nose loudly and balls it up and offers it back to him. He raises a hand and steps back, shaking his head, telling her that she may keep it.

"Are you sure?" she asks. "This is so fancy, all monogrammed with - your initials?" She looks up at him. He smiles and nods slightly. She says, "Well, thanks. Who does that nowadays, anyway? Get hankies monogrammed? So oldfashioned." She suddenly looks up at Henry. "Oh, no offense. I-It's pretty and all, it's just that," she lets out a giggle, "sounds like something one of those immortals might do, you know, get hankies monogrammed. Even HAVE hankies. Who carries those anymore?" She looks Henry up and down and then Hanson as if to compare their style of dress. Her head swivels slowly back to Henry and she smilingly says, "You know, I have pictures of my great-great-grandfather dressed almost exactly like you are back in the 1920's. She continues to smile as she squints at him and asks, "Sure you're not one of those immortals walking amongst us?"

Henry's smile freezes on his face, his mind empty of any intelligent response. Hanson breaks the awkward silence by coughing. Jo laughingly blurts out that Henry "gets that all the time." They all laugh a bit more and bid themselves a hasty exit, thanking Cheryl for her time and that they will be in touch. Jo hands one of her cards to her.

Cheryl sidles up to Henry and whispers, "Don't get me wrong. It's a good look on you." Her sultry eyes meet his and he ducks his head, smile still frozen on his face as he is finally able to step out of the apartment into the hallway.

The three sleuths quickly make their way out of the building. As they cross the street, Hanson pipes up with, "Only the Doc could get a chick all hot and bothered by letting her use his snot rag." Jo back slaps him on his arm but it's all she can do to stifle her own laughter. "Jealous." He playfully hisses at Jo. He continues his ribbing. "But she's kinda young for my tastes, Henry. Kind of robbing the cradle, ain't ya?" He looks over his shoulder and grins at Henry.

 _'If you only knew, Detective. If you only knew.'_ Henry returns Hanson's devilish grin with an exaggerated one of his own. When he met Abigail, she must have been no older than Ms. Biggams; early 20's. He, by contrast, had walked the earth consistently for 166 years. If he was robbing the cradle then, or now, it was through no fault of his own. He had no control over his long lifespan. He had never asked for it. And, so far as he knew, he was doomed to continue it for eternity. So he would be robbing the cradle of any woman he would be involved with, at this point. And, at this point, it was just another aspect of his - condition - that he had to live with. He couldn't feel guilty about it. Even if the gentleman in him still made him feel a bit uncomfortable with it.

Once back on the road, Jo and Hanson discuss getting surveillance footage from both the deli and the Rite-Aid that Cheryl Biggams mentioned. Talk with employees, see if they can't get an ID or description of the mysterious guy who bought over-the-counter asthma medication for the victim and dined on pastrami sandwiches with her. Hopefully, a pregnant woman will stand out in somebody's mind and the case can really begin to pop.

 _'No more monogrammed handkerchiefs'_ , Henry reminds himself. _'And no more lending them out!'_ He seriously considers reading that handful of Lucas' graphic novels; the ones with "immortal stuff" to help him keep a better low profile. He's thankful that so far everyone thinks his dress and deportment simply sprout from his eccentricity. That blasted Reuben Barnes!

vvvv

8

Back at the precinct, Jo and Hanson update Lt. Reece on their progress in the Valerie Nelson case. They share that many of the businesses in their target area don't even have a surveillance system. Those that do, record over their footage every 48 hours. That makes it difficult, if not impossible, to capture footage they would need from over two months ago. However, one lone jewelry store owner sends her footage to a facility in Atlanta, Georgia, that digitizes and stores it. NYPD should receive the surveillance footage for the requested time period once the facility completes their response to the warrant. A check is also being done on birth certificates issued for babies not born in a hospital in the last three to five months. So far, they've narrowed it down to four and out of that number, two very likely candidates to be the baby Valerie Nelson birthed.

"Good work, Detectives." Reece lauds them. "Unfortunately, for the victim and the baby, this case is getting buried by the press because of the hubbub over that recent news story about immortals and how to spot them, which is utterly ridiculous, if you ask me." She snorts in disgust. "But at least the press has not joined the usual clamor from my superiors. Although that gives us a little more breathing room, we stay focused, as usual." She emphasizes the last two words by tapping the well-manicured nail of her right index finger twice on Jo's desk. The two detectives nod in agreement. They both eye their boss as she steps closer to them and lowers her voice. "How's our - friend - been getting along lately?" They both know she means Henry.

"Fine." Jo quickly replies and looks over at Hanson.

"More than fine." Hanson beams. "Matter of fact," he continues as he leans back, "this Biggams chick we just interviewed _hit_ on our - friend. Apparently, some women -" he abruptly stops when he sees that Reece is not amused and his smile quickly fades. He straightens up in his chair and clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, fine, like Jo said." He avoids Reece's piercing eyes and Jo's look of mild annoyance.

"I think Lucas Wahl is rubbing off on you, Mike." She says dryly. She softens her expression as she eyes the detectives, then the wall clock. "Been a long couple of days for you two. Pack it in and be back bright and early tomorrow morning. OK?" They both respond in the affirmative and she returns to her office and closes the door. She hesitates a second and then closes the blinds.

Joanna Reece is proud of her rise from beat cop, to detective, and now, Lieutenant. Although decorated in all three capacities, it hasn't been easy. She delegates authority very well, too. But sometimes...like now...that nagging urge to dig in herself has to be satisfied. There's a reason she knows everything that goes on in her precinct. She unlocks her computer screen, opens an outside web browser and types inside the search window, Center for Scientific Discovery. Once the wanted information appears with the phone number, she picks up the phone and dials. _'Reuben Barnes. Ben Larson.'_ She thinks daggers of them both as she writes their names on a legal sized note pad. How dare they cause such an uproar with such an outlandish claim in _her_ city on _her_ watch. She grumbles to herself that their well-respected Medical Examiner and some others may have some unsettling experiences at the hands of some lame brains looking to identify a so-called immortal. She's determined to get to the bottom of it all. The line is finally answered at the other end. Anger strains her voice as she speaks. "Yes, hello. This is Lieutenant Joanna Reece of the NYPD, 11th Precinct. I'd like to speak to Dr. Reuben Barnes, please."

Meanwhile...

Hanson leaves before Jo, eager to surprise his wife and kids with a bowling night out.

Jo steps into the elevator. She wants to drop by the morgue first to see if Henry wants a ride home, then she decides against it. She does have feelings for him, as Hanson so bluntly stated back in the diner, but they're not dating or anything. And she doesn't want to appear - desperate. His mixed messages have frustrated her for weeks, though. Is there something there or not? Does he care for her or not? Why doesn't he make his move, as they say? She hates to admit it but if their partnership/friendship evolves into another level, it will have to begin with Henry. This is not like her one-night stands. Henry is different. For the first time in a long time, memories of her late husband, Sean, no longer totally fill her quiet hours. They're now filled more with visions of Henry. He looks like he stepped out of a Jane Austen novel with his impossible good looks; that smile that buckles her knees; that beautiful accent. And whenever they have accidentally brushed up against each other it's sent shivers up and down her spine. And those scarves! How can a guy look so sexy wearing scarves? But he does. And how many does he own? But she also loves him because he's so principled and caring and has such a good heart - wait - loves? She searches her heart for the truth behind the word and finds it. Yes, she loves Henry Morgan. A smile gently turns up the corners of her mouth and she realizes that the pain of having lost Sean has lessened enough to make her yearning for Henry increase. _'If only - '_

"Coming out or going up?" A voice breaks into her thoughts and she sees the lobby from the elevator's open doors. A half dozen uni's step aside as she exits and they enter. She trudges her way to her car and once inside, points it towards home. _'Home for some "me" time, then. Romance on the back burner. Stay focused, Reece said. Stay focused.'_

 _'_ _ **No more monogrammed handkerchiefs**_ _', Henry reminds himself. '_ _ **And no more lending them out!**_ _' He seriously considers reading that handful of graphic novels from Lucas; the ones with "immortal stuff" to help him keep a better low profile. He's thankful that, so far, everyone thinks his dress and deportment simply sprout from his eccentricity. '_ _ **That blasted Reuben Barnes!**_ _'_

Henry sits in his bedroom with the half dozen or so graphic novels he borrowed from Lucas. They're stacked into a neat pile on the empty side of his bed. He had decided earlier to read them but sits and stares at them instead. Something bothers him; something that Cheryl Biggams said when Jo and Hanson interviewed her earlier today. According to the Missing Persons Report she had filed a few weeks ago, she did not feel Valerie Nelson was in any danger at that time. Yet she now admits that she felt Valerie _had_ been in a dangerous situation. Why the discrepancy? _'Ahhh, probably nothing. A person can change their mind.'_ Henry wearily tells himself as he sighs and rubs his eyes. Lack of restful sleep over the past couple of days has caught up with him.

He looks forward to Abraham's return from a short business trip to Secaucus, New Jersey. _'That came up suddenly. Oh, stop. Getting paranoid in my old age.'_ He quietly laughs. Then his thoughts drift again to Jo. He wonders if he should call her about Cheryl Biggams' contradictory statements. Perhaps he could make the short trip over to her house and tell her in person. Almost immediately he perks up at the prospect of spending time with his favorite detective. But they'd be alone in her home and he doesn't want to appear over eager. He also can't guarantee that he could adhere to all the rules of his gentlemanly upbringing if he were alone with her. He closes his eyes and imagines...imagines how he would sweep the beautiful woman up into his arms and express his love to her; for her. As much as he wants to, though, he decides against it. Not the right time.

He sighs and picks up one of the novels and skims through it. His brow furrows as the story unfolds on paper. _'Lucas, Lucas,_ _ **Lucas**_ _. How on earth could you give your time to such balderdash as this!?'_ He shakes his head as he reads the preposterous nonsense on practically every page of the slim publication.

The house phone rings on the nightstand and he welcomes the interruption. He drops the novel back into the pile and quickly answers the phone.

"Hello?" He hears breathing on the other end and merrymaking in the background. A party? A nightclub?

"Hello?" (silence).

"Who is this?" (more silence).

"Look! -"

("Easy, easy, man.") A young male voice eventually replies. His laughter mingles with that of several others in close proximity to him.

"Who IS this and WHAT do you want?" Henry angrily demands.

("Are - are - you one - of them?")

"I don't know what you're talking about." Henry growled.

("You know - one of - _them._ An _immortal.")_ The group's laughter is now louder.

"You're drunk!" Henry shouts.

("Heyyy, look, I mean you fit the bill, OK? We just wanna know, thass all.") More loud laughter.

"If you call this number again, I'll alert the police." Henry warns through clenched teeth.

("OK, OK, OK. It's just that that guy on the news; he said we should be on the lookout -")

Henry slams the receiver down, jumps to his feet and begins to pace. Shaking with anger, he suddenly stops and recalls Jo telling him that if he ran into any trouble to let her know. So he slips his jacket back on, then his coat and scarf. After he throws a few items into an overnight bag, he marches over to the phone to call her. But then realizes that he doesn't know her cell phone number because it's on speed dial on Abe's cell phone. _'Blast!'_ He prays that Jo will hold true to her offer and be receptive to his impromptu visit. Because he's on his way over.

vvvv

9

Before Henry realizes it, he's standing on the sidewalk just outside the antique shop. The chilly night air on his face slowly cools his anger and calms his breathing and heart rate. He hears his son's voice in his head, though, telling him that he's once again overreacting. He mentally pictures Abraham pointing a finger at him, his other hand positioned on his hip. The phone call, after all, was _not_ from Adam. Most likely just a random call from some drunken young lout and his friends in a bar. He shuts his eyes and breathes the night air in deeply to settle his thoughts.

 _'How ridiculous to think that I should just pop over to Jo's unannounced in order to cower in her home like a frightened rabbit. Take undue advantage of her good graces for no good reason.'_ He silently chastises himself as he breathes in deeply through his nose and blows it out through his mouth. In his long past he's run from greater threats, more dire situations. And not always successfully. He admits that he still feels the residual effects of the nearly year-long stalking of him by Adam. _'It was just a prank call, a silly prank call.'_ He opens his eyes, rubs the back of his neck, and looks up and down the streets. He gives the overnight bag in his hand a quick shake and walks back to the shop door. Once he lets himself back inside, he leans his forehead against the cool glass of the shop's door and shuts his eyes again. His sudden expenditure of energy coupled with a two-day lack of sleep has left him drained. His comfortable bed and pillow call to him and he willingly answers. After he first lowers the volume of the ringer on the old rotary dial phone on his nightstand, within the next five minutes he's under the covers and blissful sleep overtakes him.

The next morning, Henry enters the morgue invigorated from a good night's sleep. "Good morning, Lucas."

"Morning, Boss. Uh, Det. Martinez just called, said they got a situation. Said she couldn't reach you at your home." Henry winced at that.

"She wants you to meet Hanson and her in the lobby. ASAP." Lucas carefully eyes his boss as he turns to leave. He's thankful for the time away from Henry and undecided whether or not he should spill the beans about Malcolm's prank call to him last night. _'Maybe I won't tell him at all about that jerk.'_ Lucas had been in the same bar last night when he overheard the last few words his fellow assistant M.E., Malcolm Etheridge, had slurred into his cell phone. As he approached him, he knew instantly that Malcolm and his scuzzo friends were laughing it up as he prank called another poor somebody. Not that he, himself hadn't indulged in same when they were both younger, but he didn't understand why Malcolm still got a kick out of it.

 _"Heyyy, Lucassss." Malcolm swayed, blue eyes bleary, as he ended the call and slapped him on the shoulder as he came to stand near._

 _Lucas shook his head disdainfully. "Seems like that would have gotten old for you by now."_

 _"Awww, not that againnn. Don't try to take away my funnn. Just havin' a lil fun." His laughter mingled shamelessly with that of his small band of cohorts._

 _Lucas shook his head and turned to leave when Malcolm slapped him on the shoulder again and stumbled around in front of him. He leaned in and gleefully bragged that he had prank called Henry. "I told him that he fits the bill. You know, for being an immortal. Your boss is such a weirdo stuff shirt. Mannn, did he get mad!" He threw his head back and laughed louder._

 _Lucas, outraged, grabbed the front of Malcolm's shirt and pulled him towards him so that they were nose to nose. He surprised even himself when he warned the 6'7" drunken prankster that if he pulled another stunt like that he would shove his teeth down his throat. He released Malcolm, now stunned, then shoved him away. Lucas stormed out of the bar and during the cab ride home, he wondered how he could ever have called Malcolm a friend. Henry was a friend and a good person. Well, he'd like to be friends with him. But he knew that Henry was still a good person and it troubled him that others who saw him only in passing would misjudge him. Lucas could feel the effects of the alcohol he had consumed and was grateful when the cab finally pulled up in front of his apartment. He paid the driver and stumbled up the steps and into his apartment. He thankfully threw himself across his bed, fully dressed. As he drifted off, he dreaded the inevitable hangover in the morning._

Henry does want to confer with Jo and Hanson about the Valerie Nelson case. He ponders what the "situation" could be. Lucas nods to acknowledge his departure and opens one of the files at his workstation. Henry frowns as he thinks there's something a bit off with Lucas' behavior but he continues on his way to the lobby. He eyes his young assistant at the other end of the floor as the elevator doors close.

Hanson is on the phone at his desk, standing but hunched over as he frantically takes notes from the person on the other end. Jo puts on her jacket as she also stands, facing Hanson. He throws the phone receiver back into its cradle and waves the slip of paper at Jo as he recites the address to her.

Jo turns and marches out of the bullpen and Hanson hurriedly falls in step with her. He looks at the small slip of paper in his hands and shoves it into his personal notepad. He shakes his head in exasperation. "Man. A jumper."

During the drive on the way over to the address of the would-be jumper, the detectives explain to Henry that the person is a distraught young woman at the edge of a rooftop. Holding a small baby. All three of them now share the same panic and dread as the air inside the car seems suddenly sucked out.

"My God." Henry whispers. He still remembers the first time he held the soft, fragile body of his baby son in his arms. His innocent, trusting eyes locking with his own. Those eyes. He fails to fathom how a parent could intentionally harm their own child - any child - but especially their own.

"Yes, pray." Jo said as she swerves the car expertly through the dense traffic, siren wailing, lights flashing. She finally brings the car to a screeching halt and all three immediately pile out. They maneuver their way through the crowd of onlookers, uniformed police, and press. They push past the microphones and reporters and ignore their hastily tossed questions.

Jo and Hanson identify themselves and Henry to the person in charge of the hastily set up command post, Captain Ryan Johnson. A short, stocky man in his late 40's, with a totally bald head. As a bodybuilder and former marine, he's aware of how intimidating his physical appearance is, but he's also the father of three. Negotiating with a suicidal person is hard enough. The fact that a small baby is endangered tears at his heart.

"Neighbors say she's Janice Layne. Married. Husband unaccounted for. Word is, they weren't able to have children of their own so they paid someone else to be a surrogate. Surrogate's MIA, as well."

The three exchange looks as Hanson sighs out, "We're pretty sure the surrogate's in our morgue. Has been for a couple of months. Valerie Nelson." He's aware that he's begun to speak in short, choppy sentences like Captain Johnson.

"We're also pretty sure we've found the baby she carried and recently birthed." Henry adds, nodding upward to the woman on the rooftop.

"Wonderful." the Captain grinds out, lowering his head. They all look up at the figure teetering near the edge of the building's rooftop. "I hate this."

"Has anyone gone up yet?" Jo asked.

"No," Captain Johnson replied, "we don't want to spook her. She says she'll jump if anyone comes up there. We're trying to locate the husband but his co-workers say he's called in sick today and for the past couple of weeks." He shakes his head. "I just don't understand. They wanted a baby, they got a baby, then he bails. The neighbors say they heard the baby crying a lot and they heard the couple arguing. A lot."

"Sounds like she was having trouble caring for it." Jo speculates.

"Yes." Henry draws out as he recalls his own hesitancy at first over feeding and handling baby Abraham. Yes, he was a doctor, but not a pediatrician. Thank God for Abigail, a loving mother who happened to also be a trained nurse. "This poor couple found themselves ill prepared for parenthood. The hardest job you'll ever love."

"And how would _you_ know about parenthood, Henry?" Jo eyes him skeptically.

He swallows and realizes that he has probably said too much. "Something my parents used to say." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jo squint at him and cock her head to the side. He's thankful that she turns her attention back to Captain Johnson as she and Hanson discuss the situation with him. Their focus now fully on the woman and the baby, Henry quietly extricates himself from them and the crowd.

He's familiar with this part of town and the architecture, some of which dates back to the late 1800's. He recognizes the building as having once been part of several owned by a wealthy Texas oil magnate. He'd had it painstakingly recreated from a European monastery for his wife and eight children for their summer residence. Once a sprawling monument to grandeur and opulence, it fell out of the hands of the family in the 1940's, and was divided up into eight separate buildings. But when the oil magnate and his family occupied it, there were underground passageways that connected the main residence to the servants' quarters in the rear. Henry desperately hopes those passageways still exist unobstructed.

Jo is the first to notice Henry's absence. Her eyes scan the crowd and the surrounding area. No Henry. She heaves a deep sigh of frustration and looks at Hanson who's confused by her look of anger. She utters a name: "Henry." Hanson looks around, his brows raised, then quickly realizes her meaning.

"Where did 'Mr. Darcy' get off to now?" He places his fists on his hips and surveys the area again. He hears Jo gasp, "Oh, my God." He follows her line of vision upwards and sees Henry on the rooftop as he stealthily approaches the woman and baby from behind. "Ah, Geez." he groans.

"Who is _that_?!" Captain Johnson barks. "Wait. Isn't that your M. _E_?" The look he levels at the two detectives rivals that of Lt. Reece's piercing glare.

 _'They must practice that stuff in front of a mirror.'_ Hanson concludes.

All eyes are on the rooftop now. The woman holding the baby sits on the edge as her legs dangle over the side. She sobs as she clutches the baby to her chest and appears not to notice Henry directly behind her. He lifts his arms and suddenly grabs the two of them and pulls them off the edge. The crowd roars and applauds in delight. Several people high-five each other as if they had been involved.

A squad of uni's, including Jo and Hanson, converge on the building through the front entrance. They make their way up to the rooftop to find a shoeless Henry as he embraces both the woman and child. He offers comforting words to the sobbing woman as he gently strokes her short, blond pixiecut.

The squad leader communicates to Captain Johnson below that the situation is now under control. He motions to other squad members and they slowly approach the trio with guns drawn. They lower them once they wrest the child from her arms and she is taken away in cuffs. "Yes, sir." The squad leader places his hand up in front of Henry to block his departure. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have orders to escort you to Captain Johnson."

Henry looks over at a greatly annoyed Jo who holds out his shoes to him. He takes the shoes as he raises a finger towards the squad leader. "A moment, if I may." As he puts his shoes back on and laces them up, the squad leader stares unblinkingly at Jo and Hanson. They squirm under his scrutiny.

Hanson averts his eyes. _'Everybody gives a_ look _these days.'_

Later, back at the precinct...

The two detectives exit Lt. Reece's office; their ears still burn from the tongue lashing they had just received. Luckily, Henry won't be arrested for having interfered in an ongoing hostage situation (the baby was an unwilling participant). Likewise, neither detective will face discipline because of Henry's actions. Captain Johnson conveyed that it took a lot of guts for what Henry had done. And although he's thankful that no one was harmed during the rescue of the baby, he will personally shoot the good doctor if he interferes in another of his operations again.

Once Reece had calmed down, she shared that the would-be jumper, Janice Layne, was ready to make a statement that could heat up the Valerie Nelson case. She named her husband, Roger, as the father of the two-month-old baby girl. Reece had ordered Jo and Hanson to go take her statement. She then requested Henry to stay.

After the detectives leave Reece's office, she folds her arms and leans back in her chair. She eyes him for several moments. "Tell me, Dr. Morgan, how did you get up on that roof without anyone seeing you?"

Henry explains about the tunnels that connect the handful of buildings.

"OK. Why didn't Janice Layne hear you creeping up on her?"

"I removed my shoes to soften the sound of my footsteps."

"I see." The Lieutenant leans forward and clasps her hands together on the desk. "Why is it, Doctor, that you and _only_ you usually know things that nobody else does? Things that no one else even _fathoms_?"

Henry's heart begins to pound but his voice remains calm. "I am a voracious reader."

"You've gained all your knowledge from books?"

"Well, no, personal experience accounts for some." He attempts a small smile.

The Lieutenant rises from her chair and walks around to the front of her desk to face Henry where he's seated. "I don't enjoy playing games, Doctor." She echoes his own words to Adam several months ago during one of the older immortal's early cryptic phone calls to him. Henry wonders nervously if Reece knows about him and his condition. The urge to bolt from the office is strong but he resists it.

"Is there a point to this, Lieutenant?" He works to keep the edge off of his voice but he's had to volley these types of questions in the past with someone who had become suspicious of him. His façade had sometimes crumbled and things didn't end well for him. Other times he was able to emerge unscathed and either continue his life where he was or move on without consequences.

Reece's voice and demeanor suddenly softened. "We like to think of you as not only our esteemed colleague but also as our friend, Doctor. If there's anything you feel you need to share, my door is always open." She walks back around her desk and sits in her chair again. "If you would prefer to confide in Det. Martinez, that's understandable. I understand that the two of you have become close friends."

Her veiled inference at first surprises then embarrasses Henry. Before he can reply, her desk phone rings. She answers and responds with, "Right. You and Hanson. Henry's on his way down. Wait for him." She hangs up. "Uni's have located Janice Layne's husband, Roger Layne. Martinez and Hanson will interrogate him once he arrives. You can sit in - from behind the glass. Remember to behave yourself. No pounding on that mirror, you hear?" Henry ducks his head and smiles. "We need your medical expertise to try to understand what really caused her death. Am I clear, Doctor?"

"Loud and clear." Henry follows Reece down to Interrogation Room 3 and feels he's dodged a bullet. Odd, he tells himself, that he should casually reference that certain small object. But as he pushes Reece's probing questions to the back of his mind, he's keenly aware that time cuts into his life in a duality of ways, much in the same way as a two-edged sword. Which way is it cutting now?

vvvv

10

 _Uni's have located Janice Layne's husband, Roger Layne. Martinez and Hanson will interrogate him once he arrives...We need your medical expertise to try to understand what really caused her death..."_

 _...Henry follows Reece down to Interrogation Room 3 and feels he's dodged a bullet. Odd, he tells himself, that he should casually reference that certain small object. But as he pushes Reece's probing questions to the back of his mind, he's keenly aware that time cuts into his life in a duality of ways, much in the same way as a two-edged sword. Which way is it cutting now?_

As Henry and Reece approach Interrogation Room 3, they are met by a disgruntled Jo and Hanson.

"She lawyered up." Hanson sighs. "We cut her a deal, though, and she gave up hubby."

"Especially since he already gave _them_ up." Jo says with disgust. "He's in for a big surprise when he gets here."

"Sad case." Reece shakes her head. "What did you get out of her?"

"Apparently, Valerie Nelson agreed to carry the Laynes' baby, for ten big ones, after the wife's two miscarriages." Hanson relates. "Valerie had some student loans and dropped out of art school and intended to return to school after the baby's birth and after she got her money."

"Things seemed to go well at first, " Jo adds, "until the Laynes ran out of money. The wife was counting on proceeds from the sale of some of her artwork but that never panned out. The husband's salary as an assistant manager in a local pizza parlor, barely kept them afloat. Our vic -"

"-Valerie Nelson." Henry gently prods.

Jo crosses her arms across her chest and gives him a pointed stare.

"She has a name, Detective." He shrugged.

"-began to make noises like she wanted to keep the baby if they couldn't pay her. The wife offered to teach her how to use a blowtorch with artresin. The caustic fumes began to make her ill, though, so _Valerie_ (she raised an eyebrow towards Henry) decided it wasn't for her."

"Then _Romeo, "_ Hanson breaks in, "decides he wants to spend more time with her in order to keep her in check, you know, so she wouldn't run off with the baby. The wife accused the two of them of having an affair even though they both denied it to her."

"Which one of them killed her, mutilated her, threw her into a garbage bag and then a shallow grave in Central Park?" Reece exasperatedly demands as she looks at the two detectives.

Henry answers, though. "Neither of them, from what I can gather." The other three eye him with skepticism.

"It appears that she was poorly tended to immediately after delivery. You see, if the placenta does not spontaneously expel from the body within at least 30 minutes, it must be manually removed within two hours either by massage of the abdomen or perhaps by administering Picotin in order to stimulate uterin contractions. There was no trace of Picotin or any similar drug in her system. Sometimes fragments of the placenta can remain in the body. It's extremely important that they be removed so as to allow blood vessels to close. Otherwise, hemorrhaging occurs either shortly after or several days or even weeks after delivery."

"So she bled to death, is what you're saying?" Jo asks.

"As a result of placenta fragments that remained in her body, yes."

"So nobody actually murdered her. She...just..." Hanson's voice trails off as the unfortunate scenario plays out in his mind.

"- had the misfortune of being attended to by those with no medical training." Henry finishes. "And to answer your question, Lieutenant, as to why her body was mutilated and thrown into a shallow grave...perhaps they simply panicked. People have been known to do some very stupid things out of fear. Fear of reprisal. Fear of discovery. Fear of rejection." His voice lowers to a whisper and his eyes once again have the look of when he's lost in his memories.

"Well, laws have still been broken even if there was no actual murder." Reece reminds them. "Let's see what the husband has to say."

As if right on cue, a cuffed Roger Layne appears at the end of the short hallway as uniformed police escort him into Interrogation Room 2. Reece gives a quick nod. Jo and Hanson join Layne and Henry and Reece position themselves behind the two-way mirror.

A rumpled and unshaven Layne shakes his head and rocks slightly back and forth. There's a pained expression on his face and he's seemingly oblivious to the presence of the two detectives seated across from him.

Jo presses play on the outdated tape recorder on the table. She identifies herself and Hanson and confirms that Layne has been read his rights and waives them.

"Yes." Layne agrees with a shaky voice. His body stills and he looks woefully at them, then lowers his eyes and stares at his hands.

"Roger Layne." Hanson begins. "Your wife told us her side of the story. What's yours?"

(silence)

"Are you aware that your wife attempted suicide earlier today?" Jo queries.

(silence)

"She was holding a small baby. A baby girl."

"The baby's name is Gretchen." He quietly states.

"She was threatening to jump from the roof of your building with the baby." Jo leans forward and looks him squarely in the face.

(silence)

"Your wife says that you are the father of the baby." Jo sighs. "Look, Roger, the autopsy shows that Valerie Nelson most likely died from complications of childbirth, not from murder. But we need to hear from you what happened."

Layne finally opens up to them and corroborates his wife's statement. "Everything - just - fell apart." He sobs and covers his mouth with his hand. "We just - I mean - we wanted a baby, that's all." His voice shudders as he struggles to calm himself. "It was my idea to - use the blowtorch to, to - burn her so that nobody'd recognize her. So nobody would know she had been kind of living with us...carrying our baby." He suddenly becomes very animated. "It was Jan's egg and my sperm." He hits the table with his palm. "It was OUR baby. Val had no right to threaten us that she would keep it! I tried to be nice to her, Jan thought there was something going on between us but it wasn't, it WASN'T!"

He looks down at his hands again. "We didn't mean to hurt her. We - just couldn't - couldn't _do_ anything for her after, after..." He shakes his hands as if to demonstrate how helpless he and his wife felt during those moments. His voice cracks and he swallows a deep sob.

"She bled. And she bled, it was so much blood. Oh, _God_ , it was so much blood and, and, it came out so fast! I, I - just - " He turns his face away from them. "didn't know what to do." He sobs. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm SO SORRY!" He breaks down.

Jo looks over her shoulder at the mirror as if she can see Henry and Reece behind it. Hanson opens the door to the room and motions for a uni to escort Layne to booking and calls for a stenographer to transcribe the tape.

Leiutenant Reece heads back to her office with the detectives and M.E., in tow. Much like a mother hen leading her chicks back to the coop. "Good job, all of you. We can finally put that one to rest." They all nod in somber agreement.

As they approach the bullpen, they notice a package on Hanson's desk and he walks over to see who it's from.

"The digitized surveilance tapes from the jewelry store near Sam's Deli and the Rite-Aid." He looks up in surprise. "That was quick."

"Guess we don't need them now, though." Jo says.

They both look to their boss for direction. She shrugs and says, "Maybe not. But since things are kind of slow right now, it's best to be thorough, just in case. " She returns to her office and closes the door.

The trio exchange looks as Hanson gathers up the package. They turn on a TV in a nearby conference room and insert the first DVD into its slot. "This oughta be interesting." Hanson smirks. They seat themselves and prepare for some dull viewing.

Two coffee cups each and two hours later, they've only viewed two weeks' worth of surveillance. Nothing out of the ordinary, either. Automobile and foot traffic continue almost ceasingly from day into night and into day again. New York is billed as the city that never sleeps and these images offer certain proof of that.

Something catches Henry's eye at the time stamp of 8:23 p.m., on a Tuesday night, three weeks in. His heart almost stops as he views what appears to be a startlingly familiar flash of light in the middle of the dark street. It's as if an object had been thrown into traffic. _'No. It's as if an object or - a body - fell into the middle of traffic.'_ He now wishes desperately that he was somewhere else. And he prays that the odd flash does not look so odd to the detectives. Much to his dismay, he's not to be that lucky.

"Say, did you see that?" Hanson points at the screen. He reaches for the remote and pauses it, then reverses it a few frames. He presses the 'play' button and pauses it when the flash shows again. "There!" He points again. The remote in his hand, he stands near the TV and peers at the paused flash of light. "Ever see anything like that?" He takes his seat again but still holds the remote.

"Maybe just a firecracker?" Jo speculates.

Henry wishes he had control of the remote so he could press erase or delete or whatever to hide what he knows was Adam as he jumped from a building into the street. He has never witnessed what occurs when he has died. He only knows what Abe or Abigail had described to him. But he had seen Adam shoot himself in the head in the taxicab when he'd kidnapped him a few months ago.

"Naww, I know what a firecracker going off looks like. That seemed to drop down from somewhere and then the flash."

"Well, it's hard to tell what it could be, really." Henry says. "What with the shadows and darkness of the night."

"We'll send it to our tech lab to isolate and analyze it frame by frame." Jo says. She leans forward, peers closer and suddenly straightens up. "That definitely looks like a human form falling and hitting the street. But what is that flash of light?"

"Another jumper?" Hanson asks despairingly.

Henry thinks back and realizes that at that exact time, 8:23 p.m., on that Tuesday night, he ended his phone conversation with Adam. They were discussing the pugio dagger that Adam said had brought on his immortality when he had been stabbed with it by a Roman soldier. _'He must have been so bored that night that he jumped off a building into traffic. And now_ his _death has come back to haunt me.'_ He watches helplessly as Hanson removes the DVD.

"I'll walk this down to the tech lab."

"Great." Jo stretches and yawns. "I'm gonna call it a day." She looks at Hanson. "McSorley's?"

"Sure." Hanson waves the packaged DVD to her. "Just let me drop this off and I'll be over there."

"How 'bout you, Henry? Care to join us for drinks?"

"Uh, no, thank you, uh, I have a prior engagement." He smiles nervously, walks out of the conference room with Jo and heads down to the morgue.

Jo wonders what could have spooked him this time, then realizes it was something on the tape. She's aware that he was unusually silent when the strange flash of light appeared on the TV screen.

Henry punches the down button for the elevator as he dreads what the tech lab analysis of the DVD will reveal. _'Adam. You blithering idiot!'_

 **Notes:**

Information on the importance of removing the placenta after childbirth was obtained from two different sites: afterbirth removal and birth and delivery. I also once had a co-worker who died after the doctor/hospital staff failed to remove hers. We were told that it had wrapped around her heart.

Anyway, cliffhanger, cliffhanger give me a break (sung to the tune of Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match). Hope you all like the latest update. Thanks for your interest.


	3. Safety Net Ch 11

Summary: Henry finally tells Jo his secret. How will she react? Abe risks a reprimand from his father. Love blooms. But it's the calm before the storm.

Notes: I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

Chapter Text

Abe parks and exits his car outside of the antique shop. _'Home, sweet home.'_ He yawns and stretches as he walks up to the shop's door and lets himself in. "Henry!" Complete silence. "Hey, Henry, you here? I'm home!" The blinking red light on the outdated answering machine catches his eye and he manuevers around the shop's antiquities towards it. _'Guess you're not.'_ he wryly replies to himself. He pushes the "Playback" button and listens to only the beginning of a message he'd left for his father more than ten hours earlier. He grunts and pushes the button again to end playback and then the button to erase the message. Moot point now to alert him that he's on his way home.

It's times like these that he wishes his father owned a cell phone. He hopes that he's somewhere in the company of a certain hot female detective. _'Hmmm, most likely still working. Drives me batty sometimes to watch him work so hard at working and not enough at living.'_ He climbs the stairs to the second-floor living quarters and heads for his bedroom. "Well," he groans out to the quiet darkness, "these old bones are gonna hit. the. hay."

It frustrates him that the New Jersey State-sponsored auction in Secaucus yielded very little of value to him. Safe deposit boxes and other folks' cheap, ugly jewelry no longer garnered his interest. Neither did office furniture and computers from bankrupt businesses. His once eclectic tastes have leaned more toward the Georgian, Regency, Victorian and Edwardian era antiques as he's grown older. He wonders just how much of that is attributable to the influence of a father who sprung from and lived in those eras. Despite time spent with the Frenchman, he thinks, _'Wherever you are, Dad, hope you're having more fun than I did. Goodnight.'_

Back at the precinct...

 _...It's been decades since he's had to endure such emotional upheaval regarding disclosure of his condition...He looks helplessly up at Reece and realizes that she knows that he has even more to divulge. More lies to Jo feels increasingly reprehensible to him._

 _He gathers as much dignity as possible and states, "It might be best to continue any further discussion in a more private setting."_

 _Reece gets his drift. "My office."_

 _"No." Henry locks eyes with Reece. My home."_

Because of the late hour and the long day's emotional revelations regarding the Valerie Nelson case, Reece suggests, and they all agree, to continue the discussion in her office tomorrow at 9:00 AM sharp. She and Henry exchange knowing looks as she heads out of the tech lab with home in mind. The silent exchange doesn't go unnoticed by Hanson but he takes his cue from his boss and heads out for home.

Jo offers a ride to Henry and he accepts. She had also noticed the silent exchange of looks between the Lieutenant and him. She eyes him warily during the drive. As they idle at a red light, she turns to him. "So, what was that look you exchanged with Lieu, Henry?"

He inhales deeply, exhales, and looks at her. "It concerns what I should have told you a long time ago, Jo."

A car horn honks behind them and alerts Jo to the now green light. The drive to the antique shop resumes. Once they arrive, she pulls up to let him out.

"I know it's been a long day and we're all very tired," he acknowledges, "but please come inside, Jo. You need to know this before our meeting tomorrow morning." He waits tensely for her response. "Please..?" He heaves a sigh of relief when she cuts off the car's motor.

"Alright, Henry. But I can open my own door, okay?" He smiles slightly and nods in deference to her. Once inside, he locks the door back and they navigate their way through the darkened shop and climb the stairs to the kitchen.

"Something to drink, Jo? Tea? _'Whiskey?'_ He grabs the potent potable and two glasses.

"Nothing for me, Henry." Her eyes close and she rolls her head around as she rubs the back of her neck.

His motions still and his heart flip flops as he takes in her unadulterated beauty. _'Stay focused.'_ he recalls Reece's words.

"Whatever it is you want to tell me, tell me in there." She points to the sitting room where she plops down on the couch and waits patiently for him to join her. Somehow she knows it concerns that black and white photo she had confronted him with weeks ago. The memory of that day causes uncertainty to rise in her just as it did then. Her knees are weak even though she's sitting down. _'Why are you so secretive, Henry?'_ The question has plagued her even months before his claim that the man in the photo, his veritable twin, was his grandfather. Her detective's mind simply refused to accept it, though. She had decided to let him open up to her when he was ready. His unwillingness to let her in weighed heavily between them. Was he finally ready now?

She admits that she loves him, but she also knows that any relationship based on lies is not what she wants. Now nervous, she rubs one thumb over the other as she tightly clasps her hands in her lap. ' _Please, Henry. Don't you_ _dare_ _burst my bubble. Just trust me. Please.'_ The sound of glasses and the whiskey bottle being placed on the wooden coffee table suddenly cuts into her thoughts.

Henry sits next to her on the couch. He'd had it all mapped out in his mind, all rehearsed, how to tell her. _'Tell her.'_ His son's voice echoes in his head. _'Tell her.'_ The photo. Start with the photo.

"Jo." His voice is hoarse as he stares at the whiskey bottle as if to gather courage from it. He clears his throat. "I lied when I told you that the man in that photo you showed me was my grandfather." He turns to face her. "It's me in the photo, Jo."

"You?" Her mouth opens and closes as she shakes her head. "How could that be you? That photo was not a fake. It was taken in the 1940's!" She can't believe what she's hearing. Has he lost his mind? Or did he think she was just that stupid? "More lies, Henry?" She shouts.

"No, no, Jo! No more lies!" He pulls his lips in and fights against the familiar feeling of dread that has come up many times in the past when his condition has been revealed. "I'm telling you the truth this time." He pleads; his breathing shudders in and out.

Through clenched teeth, she demands, "Then how in the world can that be you in the photo, Henry?" The anger in her voice cuts through him like a blade.

"Because," he closes his eyes and soldiers on, "I am - immortal."

"Hallelujah! It's about time!" Abe's voice reaches them from down the hall.

"Abraham, please!" Henry jumps up and stalks over with clenched fists to glare at his son who now stands in the middle of the room. Abe's elation makes him oblivious to his father's stern look of disapproval. Or he merely ignores it.

"Hey, kiddo, how you doin'?" He studies the young woman who looks as though her world has just been turned upside down. _'Well, that's to be expected.'_ He pats his father on the arm as he still ignores that _look_ that long ago meant a trip to the outhouse, and makes his way over to her. "Here, have a drink." His soothing voice helps slow her racing mind. As he places the glass of whiskey in her hands, he squeezes them and smiles at her. "You'll be fine. Just listen and keep an open mind. Remember," he pats her hand, "he's a good man. A bit of a schlimazel when it comes to women sometimes, but still," (Jo gives a short laugh) he stands up and smiles down at her, "a good man." He finally turns to look at his father whose stern look is reluctantly being replaced by a smile. "Well, I've moved things along here. You're welcome." He bows slightly to his father and quickly walks out of the room. "I'll be in my room if you need me again." He calls over his shoulder.

Henry stands with his fists on his hips like another forever youthful being, Peter Pan. He smiles broadly as he watches his mischevious son disappear back down the hall. He shakes his head and lowers it. Then he sighs and takes his seat next to Jo once again. They shyly smile at each other.

"So...immortal." Jo lets the word roll off her tongue as if to set herself at ease with it. It doesn't work. "Henry, I -" At a loss for words, she looks away from him, anywhere _else_ but at him.

"Jo, there's more." He timidly reaches out to touch her hand but quickly withdraws it. _'She doesn't want me to touch her. She doesn't even want to look at me.'_ But he still feels he owes her a full explanation.

"Immortal means you don't die." She suddenly perks up and looks him in the eyes. "You live forever. Right?"

"In my particular case, not exactly. I do die and whenever I do, I feel the pain, the fear and panic like anyone else. But I always come back to life - without a mark on my body. And it's always in the nearest large body of water, and always naked."

Her eyes widen as realization grows on her face. "The East River, the, the skinny dipping." She whispers.

He nods, his lips pulled in. "I am not a sleepwalker. No one in their right mind should ever willingly attempt to swim in that treacherous strait." He shudders at the many memories associated with his emergences; the arrests and public humiliation when he'd failed to escape detection and be picked up by Abe.

"Oh, Henry." She places her hand on his and squeezes it. "Each time you've gotten arrested for public indecency you had...oh, my God. And that day Hanson and the others made fun of you..." She clutches both of his hands with hers, tears welling up in her eyes. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

"You've nothing to apologize for, darling. There was no way that either you or anyone else could have known about my condition. In my long life, I've become very adept at hiding in plain sight." He retrieves a kleenex from his vest pocket and wipes her tears away.

"What, you ran out of monogrammed hankies?" They both laugh.

"Since they had brought too much attention to me, I've substituted them for the modern day equivalent. Although not as fashionable or sturdy, they do take up considerably less space in these tiny waist coat, I mean, vest pockets."

"Abe knows, doesn't he?" She looks towards the hallway and smiles. Henry nods. "When did he find out?"

"His mother and I told him when he was a teenager. Apparently, some of his classmates - "

"He, he's your _son_?" She is utterly flabbergasted.

"Um, yes. Abigail and I adopted him shortly after the end of World War II." His voice fills with fatherly pride and love, his eyes cloud over as he welcomes this particular memory. "He was just a baby, found in a Nazi death camp. Miraculously healthy and unharmed. The most adorable baby. He stole my heart. Abigail was holding him when I first saw the two of them. She stole my heart, too."

Jo watches how calm and happy his face looks as he describes meeting his future wife and child for the first time.

They cuddle closer together as she leans her head against his chest. She closes her eyes and listens to his heartbeat and the tremor of his voice as it vibrates between them. He wraps his arms around her, closes his eyes and softly tells her his long story. Suddenly he remembers something. Eyes still closed, he smiles and says, "Jo, you called me honey."

Half asleep, she smiles and counters, "And you called me darling."

They both smile broader and then the smiles fade as sleep overtakes them both. They cuddle even closer but are never aware when Abe tiptoes in and tucks a blanket in around them.

'Night, Pops. Pleasant dreams you two.'


	4. Safety Net Ch 12

Despite Henry's insistence (a plea, really) the night before in the tech lab that they continue their discussion in his home, Reece had insisted on a 9:00 AM meeting this morning in her office. She'd then had the lab tech, Lacey, email the enhanced surveillance tape images to her.

Large coffee in hand, she walks briskly across the bullpen and nods her morning greetings to both the detectives and uniformed personnel. No time for pleasantries this morning, she's on a mission. A mission of discovery. She understands Henry's need for privacy still, but she also feels it's necessary for her to maintain some control over even his extraordinary situation. The need to anchor his newly disclosed _un_ -reality to _her_ reality might prove impossible, she realizes. What is she to think now? That other supernatural beings exist, as well? Beings that only exist in fairy tales, comic books, and movies?

Once inside her office, she closes the door and settles in behind her desk. A sleep from exhaustion had come late to her in the wee hours of the morning. Memories of her discussion with Henry, the emailed images she'd received from Dr. Barnes, the revelation of Dr. Farber's apparent suicide, and the heart-wrenching details of Valerie Nelson's death had bombarded her senses relentlessly. Her large coffee, now cooled, allows her to take a couple of big gulps. She wishes instead it were laced with alcohol. Or was just straight alcohol. Her computer screen flickers to life and she logs into her email. _'Seventeen more minutes til the big show.'_ However, she notes, this was not going to be like the "Ed Sullivan Show" but more like "The Twilight Zone". _'Why didn't I listen to my mother and open a nail salon?'_

Back at the antique shop...

The flash of light she'd seen on the enhanced surveillance tape plays again in Jo's mind _. 'Flash of light, a sudden flash.._. _'_ She suddenly recalls that there was a bright flash of white light to the right of and behind her as she had searched for Henry on the abandoned subway platform several weeks ago. There'd also been voices raised in anger, their words indistinguishable. In a growing panic, she had turned to the light but as quickly as it had come, it had gone.

 _'That's when I found his pocketwatch and that old-looking black and white photo of a man who looked like Henry's twin, with a beautiful young woman holding a baby.'_ She looks at him again as he enjoys the last of his eggs and coffee. _'Incredible. Everything he told me last night and still more to come regarding Farb- Adam'._ She shook her head slightly. _'Simply incredible.'_

Henry notices Jo staring at him intently. Worry begins to cloud his mind. Was she having second thoughts in the light of day? Was she beginning to doubt the veracity of his long story?

Abe notices his father's body language. He feels the ebullience once evident, now fading away. He clears his throat and loudly announces, "There's plenty more where that came from. Seconds, anyone? How 'bout you, Jo, more eggs? Here," he grabs her plate, "let me get you some -"

"No, thanks, Abe, I'm stuffed." She beams at him. "Everything was delicious." She looks back at Henry but quickly drops her eyes. "I really need to stop by my place for a quick shower and change of clothes." She looks back up at him and manages an uncertain smile. "Big meeting in Lieu's office at 9 o'clock, remember?"

"Yes, of course," Henry says with trepidation. "You're...you're feeling allright, though? I mean, my disclosures last night bordered on the fantastical." He tenses his shoulders as he waits for her response, dreading what he might see in her warm, brown eyes. Rejection. Repulsion. Fear. Disbelief. Pity. He couldn't endure anything like those from her. Not from Jo, the woman he loves. Not again from a woman he loves.

He looks over at Abe, but his chair is empty. Henry hadn't noticed his son slip out but he's sure it was to give him time alone with Jo. "I suppose Abe had to pop downstairs and open up the shop." He attempts a wobbly smile. "But you said that you had to stop off at your place first so you should leave now. Shouldn't be late for the meeting with Lt. Reece." A couple centuries of practice permit him to finally manage a more believable smile. He's used to forging on through heartache, disappointment and even betrayal. Tears burn at the backs of his eyes now. He simply can't believe that after last night, after they'd both professed their love for one another, that she...

"Well, you're coming with me, right?"

He snaps out of his brooding and becomes aware of her smiling face. Her bee-yoo-tee-full smiling face! "Yes, yes, of course." He brushes his misgivings aside, his smile now the familiar dazzling one. As he eagerly manuvers around the table to leave with her, she steps in front of him and places her hands on his chest and, unknowingly, right over the scar from his first death. His breath catches. They gaze into each other's eyes in much the same way as when she had come to the shop on a certain night some time ago to tell him that she hadn't wanted to go to Paris with Isaac Monroe. He'd felt something between them then, that he was uncertain of. He was certain of it now, though. And so was she. Something special; something electrifyingly special.

"It's all so - I mean, I'm working on it. You know? Trying to take everything in." She bites her lip and her eyes flutter. "Trying to understand it all." She cups the side of his face with her hand and caresses his cheek. He leans into her touch, the warmth of her hand soothes him. He _needs_ her touch. "Henry, it's so much. You recently buried your wife, Abe's mother. Farber, I mean, Adam was your stalker, not Clarke Walker, whom you had to kill in your own home, and you neither told nor sought assistance from anyone. You endured the pain and uncertainty of that time alone. How I wish you had let me _know_ back then."

"I know, I know, Jo." He pushes a stray strand of hair out of her face, his fingers brush her cheek. The brief contact between them causes her eyes to flutter once more, his heart to skip a beat.

He knew all too well just how much there was to deal with concerning him and his secret. He'd dealt with it alone for so long before he'd met Abigail and Abe. She'd saved him. After their many years together, though, she'd left. And Abe, his wonderful son, had sustained him. But it had been so long since he'd had another woman to share his life with; to share his love with. "You needn't worry about trying to understand it all, darling. It's been my life and I'm still trying to make sense of it."

Her arms snake their way up and around his neck, one of her hands caress the soft curls at the nape. His arms encircle her waist and he pulls her closer in a tight embrace. Their eyes close as their lips meet in a tender, exploring, long overdue kiss. In this moment, the world has stopped for them. There is no one else. Nothing else that matters except to be this close to each other, enjoying the nearness of each other.

It's something they've both needed, longed for, for so long. They've both come out of that cold place of grief, and finally stepped into the warmth of each other's love. After several minutes they break away reluctantly to come up for air. Eyes closed, they hold each other, caress each other's cheeks, and breathe in the uniqueness of each other. Jo: his after shave, the starch of his collar and something woodsy, masculine. Henry: her shampoo, her lip gloss and something that brings to mind the sweetness of honey and the beautiful fragility of butterflies.

"Jo, we have to.." Henry softly reminds her as he presses his forehead against hers.

"I, I know: my place, then meeting." She smiles, steps back and pulls him by his hand. He grins and follows willingly.

During the short drive to her place, they hold hands whenever she doesn't need both on the steering wheel. Like two shy teenagers in the first throws of puppy love (only they both know that this is anything _but_ puppy love) they mostly just exchange smiles and enjoy the new closeness of their relationship. He sits on the top step outside her place while she readies herself for a new work day. He recalls the time when they'd both shared her stoop and hot chocolate amidst snow flurries. The jewelry store robbery case had dredged up sad memories for her of her late husband, Sean. And he'd come over to offer her a bit of company. A shoulder to cry on, really. Even though it was a sad time for her, he'd been grateful that she'd accepted his offer.

A movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. A dark grey SUV slowly motors past, much slower than necessary, he thinks. He watches as the vehicle stops at the intersection and slowly turns right. _'Probably just someone unsure of their destination.'_ But he makes a mental note of the license plate number - ABY 4091 - just to be on the safe side. He sighs and realizes it could also be another person hunting immortals. Hunting him.

Jo steps back outside, showered and changed after only 15 minutes. After another 15 minutes, they enter the precinct with ten minutes to spare before the meeting in Reece's office.

Henry spots Lucas entering the building behind them and calls to him to join them. _'If I'm going to do this, let one time do for all.'_

Lucas, a bit surprised at the invitation (considering he's nearly an hour late), willingly accepts. Their expressions tell him that this meeting will be some serious business, though. Great. He hopes he can get through it while nursing his hangover. Still, he's grateful that Henry wants to include him in...whatever this is. He falls in behind them as Hanson joins them once they reach the bullpen.

Hanson knocks on Reece's door and she bids them to enter. As Hanson, Jo, and Lucas seat themselves, Henry remains standing. Reece positions the computer monitor on her desk so that they all can easily view the enhanced surveillance images. "Doctor?" She looks up at Henry.

"Yes." He nervously begins. "Well, first of all, the person identified as Lewis Farber in these images is the psychologist I had one session with around Christmas. The tape shows him as he either fell or jumped from a building to the street below and then appeared to vanish in a burst of light." Despite a dry throat and sweaty palms, he forges on, his hands clasped in front of him. This roundabout way of revealing his secret to Hanson and Lucas (and clarifying it for the Lieutenant) via _Adam's_ secret is not proving to be as easy as he'd thought.

"You're saying that he vanished?" Hanson doesn't buy it. "You mean like some kind of crazy magic trick?" He waves his hands around.

"Not a trick, Detective. Something that happens whenever he dies."

Lucas' eyes grow rounder and rounder as he realizes he's privy to a story more entertaining than in any of his graphic novels. He silently mouths, "Whoa".

Hanson, protests, clearly agitated. "Now, just wait a minute -"

"Whenever he dies, he vanishes in a burst of light..." Jo's voice interrupts but grows softer to just above a whisper. The frown lines indicate she's putting two and two together but coming up with five. And yet...

"So, if he died and vanished - what happened to him after that?" Reece shakes her head and blinks her eyes rapidly at the implausible question she's just asked.

"He most likely reawakens in the nearest large body of water. Naked." He steels himself as his words sink into their psyches. All of them except Jo, look at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Hanson breaks the silence. "You mean like, like, in the - " He finds it hard to complete the impossibe thought.

"Yes, Detective. He most likely reawakens in the East River. Or it could be the Hudson, I'm not sure where, actually, but he does."

"The skinny dipping?" Lucas, awestruck, strokes his chin as the pieces slowly fall into place for him.

"No, Lucas, not skinny dipping." Henry rolls his eyes. "Reawakening. No matter the method of death, he always returns to life with no marks on his body. That is, except for the scar of his very first death."

"How do you know all this?" Hanson demands. He looks around at the others, his eyes beg them to repudiate what he hears as lunacy. "Somebody please tell me you're not buying this. It's some kind of joke, right, Doc? I mean, people don't just die and come back to life! It, it, it, just can't be true." He squints at Henry as if seeing him through a fog. He rises from his chair and walks over to stand face to face with the M.E. "You're telling the truth about this Farber guy, aren't you? Because - "

"Because it's _my_ truth, as well, Detective." He shakes his head and spreads his hands. "Reuben Barnes was right in his assumption that there could be other immortals besides Ben Larson."

"You know for a fact that Larson is immortal?" Reece asks. "How would you know that?"

"Well, you're right, Lieutenant, I know nothing about Larson. But I _do_ know about Adam - that's the name Farber told me to call him, by the way, when he, not Clarke Walker, was stalking me - and he and I _do_ share the same curse, the same affliction." He pauses and gathers the courage to utter the words he's worked more than two centuries to hide from everyone. "I am immortal."

Hanson, his brow knitted, slowly steps away from Henry and sits back down. The two men maintain eye contact the whole time. Henry's seen the look before when others he'd counted as friend turned on him after his secret was revealed. He'd jumped to conclusions earlier that morning when he thought that Jo may have doubted his claim. But...this time there's no mistaking what he sees in Hanson's eyes. _'He's either repulsed by me or he thinks I'm insane.'_ The pain of a potential broken friendship over his condition is not unbearable. But the sting of it never leaves. He may have more repeat chances at life than most, but only one heart. Then he feels a hand slip into his and he looks down to find that it's Jo's. She stands next to him and smiles as she looks up at him. There to give him moral support. He squeezes her hand then lifts it and presses her fingers to his lips.

Lucas and Reece mirror each other's movements as Henry's declaration sinks in. They slowly shake their heads from side to side, eyes wide, jaws dropped. Reece plants both hands on her desk, palms down and shoots up out of her chair and quietly says, "Well, have mercy."

At the same time, Lucas jumps up out of his chair, a look of unbridled glee on his face and yells to the ceiling, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" His arms pump as he prances around his chair, legs lifting high. "Aw, man, dude! This is awesome." He suddenly looks at the immortal M.E., who feels as helpless as an eagle's prey right now.

"Lucas." Henry puts a hand up in a valiant effort to ward off the inevitable. "Control yourself, now."

Lucas closes in on him, arms open wide. He pounces on Henry and wraps him in a bear hug. "Whoa. Wow. Oh, my God." He pulls back and gleefully blurts out, "And you and Det. Martinez are obviously an item! How cool is that?" He resumes his bear hug even tighter this time.

Henry pats Lucas' arm a couple of times. "Yes, yes, well, I'm glad that you derive so much pleasure from all of this, but we must maintain decorum, mustn't we?" _'Lucas, you're breaking my neck!'_

Jo and Reece can't help but laugh a little at the sight of Henry's attempts to extricate himself from Lucas' grasp. Even Hanson cracks a little smile. He stands up and goes over to pull Lucas off of Henry. "Hey, Lucas. Lucas! C'mon, give the Doc some air, you're chokin' him."

Lucas finally pulls away from his boss, a smile plastered on his face from ear to ear. "Sorry, sorry." He turns and walks back to his chair with his hands on his hips and shakes his head. "Who'd a thought? Man, who'd a thought?" He sits back down and gazes and grins at Henry.

"Doctor, you have to help us to understand this." Reece's voice is quietly desperate. "You die (she sighs), but you come back to life. Okay." She sits back down. "But this Dr. Farber that you call-"

"Adam." Henry supplies.

"Adam. Okay. He dies, he comes back to life. Then why in the world is he jumping off of a building if he knows that?"

"Either for fun or when he gets bored." He shrugs. "You see, my first death was in 1814, a little more than 200 years ago. However, _his_ first death, according to him, was in 44 B.C., more than _2000_ years ago." He feels the others, including Jo, struggle to digest the impossible sounding information he shares with them.

"So, he's presumably lived longer than maybe anyone else alive today," Reece concedes, "but I don't understand why -"

"He once told me that life was a game. He's a person who no longer feels he has a purpose in life. He views mortals as being beneath him, I suppose. Nothing more than mere toys for him to play with."

"But then he found a new toy." Hanson interjects.

Henry, surprised, looks over at Hanson whose features have softened considerably. "Yes, Detective, you're quite right." The two men trade small smiles with each other. Hanson's is one of apology, Henry's is one of gratitude. "He once told me that I was but a child and I suppose he feels - or rather felt - the need to educate me on certain things that pertain only to immortals."He sits down in an empty chair. "Adam, however, began to feel that I was either neglecting him or didn't believe him that he shared my condition. So, he proved it to me one night."

Jo had heard the story from him last night. She nods encouragement to him to continue and he does. Three hours later, he has shared the pertinent details of his life with Abigail, and his son, Abe; of his being stalked by Adam for months leading up to Clarke Walker's death. Finally, of their confrontation in the bowels of the subway system that resulted in Adam's locked-in condition.

"I see why you wanted to continue this discussion in your home, Doctor." Reece blows out a sigh and, aware that it's lunch time, proposes just that. "Let's get lunch and meet at Henry's. We have to map out a plan on how to deal with our newfound reality." She raises an eyebrow towards Henry. "I mean, we were protective of you before but now we know we have a _real_ reason to be."

Henry proposes that they all have lunch at his home in order to save time. He assures them that Abe is an excellent cook and Jo backs him up on that claim. They agree and head out of the building. Jo passengers Henry in her car, Hanson passengers Reece and Lucas in his.

Once at the antique shop, they park and exit the two vehicles. As they approach the shop's entrance, Henry's suddenly aware of a dark grey SUV with tinted windows parked across the street. The others file in past him but he feels as if he's being watched. He turns to look at the SUV again and sees the driver side window roll down. He sees the long barrel of a rifle aimed at him and he ducks but it's too late. The searing pain of the bullet piercing his flesh is unmistakably familiar. It caught him squarely between the shoulders in the back and he knows his spine is shattered. He lies face down and hears the squeal of the SUV's tires as it speeds away. More gunfire but not from a rifle. A police issue revolver. He realizes it must be from Hanson's gun because Jo is kneeling beside him, sobbing. He hears Reece say she's calling 911, then Abe's voice advising her not to. _'Thank you, Abe.'_ He can't speak or move but is aware that he's now lying in a growing pool of blood. He hears the horror in Hanson's voice as he re-enters the shop and sees Henry's worsening condition.

"What do we do?" Hanson implores of Abe.

"Nothing." They all look at him, disbelief on their faces, then grudgingly accept his meaning. "We wait. He'll be fine. Just - takes some getting used to." He kneels so that Henry can see him. "See ya in a bit, Pops."

Henry's eyes glaze over, he exhales one last time and the kaleidoscope of images from his long life parade before him, then darkness.


	5. Safety Net Ch 13

"What do we do?" Hanson implores of Abe.

"Nothing." They all look at him, disbelief on their faces, then grudgingly accept his meaning. "We wait. He'll be fine. Just - takes some getting used to." He kneels so that Henry can see him. "See ya in a bit, Pops."

Henry's eyes glaze over, he exhales one last time, and the kaleidoscope of images from his long life parade before him; then darkness.

Henry breaks the surface of the East River's cold, murky waters. He gasps for air as the details of this latest death flood his consciousness and he groans. It was not his intention that his new circle of confidants witness his death so soon after having learned his secret. He'd rather they hadn't at all. _'Jo was kneeling next to me, sobbing. My poor darling.'_ He finds his bearings and looks towards the shore. No Abe. Not any of them. They've got to be on their way, though, he prays. At least he sees no police- oops! _'Two on the bridge.'_ Even though one's back is to him and the other appears too distracted by their conversation to notice him, he ducks back down under the water and swims under the bridge. He desperately hopes Abe and whoever else arrive soon.

Two derelicts familiar to him from a few previous emergences motion for him to come near. He reluctantly complies but acknowledges that they've always been helpful and encouraging in the past.

"Hey, Flipper!" One yells laughingly. "Over here!" Henry draws nearer and finds his footing that takes him to dry land. "That's it, Flipper Boy, come on, come on." He walks up to them as he braces himself against the pleasant day's unusually chilly soft breeze. The derelict (Phil?) hands him a tattered NY Ranger's T-shirt and stained sweat pants. He gratefully accepts them and slips into them. The other derelict, Alex, watches in mild amusement as he sits Native American style near a nondescript pile of his personal belongings.

"We gotta stop meetin' like this." Phil guffaws through a toothless grin. Then suddenly the three of them grow still as statues as Phil puts an index finger to his closed mouth and points upward with the other. They listen, barely breathing, as both the footsteps and voices of the two uniformed police grow closer, then fade as they walk away from the bridge into the nearby park.

"Thank you, thank you, both." Henry shakes hands with the two of them.

"One o' these days," Phil advises, "you're gonna catch your _death_ splashin' 'round in them waters, Flipper Boy." He points in a circular motion to the water.

Henry grins and nods as the two derelicts have a good laugh at his expense. He waves good-bye to them as he navigates his way around bushes and up the slippery slope to the flatter ground of the park's paved walkway. Luckily, he draws little attention from passersby because he looks like a homeless person. _'People generally avert their eyes from those who appear either financially or physically challenged.'_ Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his son's car as it pulls up and parks. He makes out Jo in the passenger seat. Even from this distance, he can see the look of apprehension, almost terror, on her face, her shoulders tensely hunched. His heart aches for her and he longs to comfort her.

Abe steps out of the car and walks up to him and hands him a pair of boat shoes and an NYPD hoodie. He looks over Henry's shoulder towards the bridge's underbelly. "I see your friends already suited you up."

"Thank you, Abe." He quickly slips his freezing feet into the shoes while he shoves his chilled arms into the hoodie and zips it up. Abe hands him the towel and looks over his shoulder back at Jo and the others. Jo takes small, slow steps towards Henry, her face pinched, arms straight down by her sides, fists clenched.

Abe looks back at his father and quietly informs him, "She took it hard, Dad." His look of great concern matches his father's.

Jo stops about six feet away from Henry. Her eyes penetrate his. The air stills around them and he can barely breathe. He's vaguely aware of Hanson, Reece and Lucas who halt their approach and watch, uncertain as to how things will unfold.

Jo suddenly runs to Henry, jumps into his arms, and heaves a deep sob into his shoulder. She clings to him as if her own life depends upon it. He wraps his arms around her and clutches her to him. He buries his face in her luxurious brown locks and presses his lips against the side of her neck. For several moments they cling to each other. Her shoulders shake as she softly cries.

Abe and the others exchange somber looks as he awkwardly walks back to rejoin them.

"Jo, I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry you had to see that." He strokes the back of her hair with one hand and rubs small circles on her back with his other.

She buries her face in his chest and tearfully muffles, "I know you told me, you told us, but actually seeing it...oh, Henry." She looks up at him, her eyes reddened and puffy. "There was so much blood. I thought you were..." She shakes her head which causes her tresses to swing, and hugs him again. She pulls back again to look at him as if to make sure that he's really there.

"It's okay, darling. I'm fine. Really." He smiles down at her. "I always come back." He says it more to reassure her because he still regards his condition as a curse. In his opinion, it's a curse for him to have to go through this and to put others through it as well. They exchange a quick kiss and hug again.

"Henry?" Abe's voice carries over to them. "We should head back."

"Yes, yes, of course, Abraham." They turn and walk hand in hand back to Abe's car. Jo gets back into the front passenger seat and Henry piles into the back seat.

Hanson coughs and motions Reece and Lucas back towards his car. The occupants of both cars ride in silence back to the antique shop. The enormity of what their M.E., has had to deal with as an immortal hits home and hits big for all of them. Even Abe, who has dealt with his father's condition since he was a teen. He'd watched how his mother had handled his father's deaths and rebirths and taken his cue from her. He'd never seen anyone else's reaction, though. And it still was not easy for him to endure. And he knew it never would be. He just hoped that for his father's sake that this newly informed group would not disband before it had a chance to gain cohesiveness.

Henry could only imagine what went through the others' minds as he died and his body vanished without a trace, blood and all. In the car's rear view mirror, he met his son's eyes. The look told him a lot. He could only imagine.

Earlier, back at the antique shop...

Abe rose from the floor. Several seconds later his father's body vanished, blood and all, in a bright, white light. The miniscule blue and red droplets flashed last and disappeared. It's as if he had never been there. Jo looked in amazement at her once-bloodied hands and knees, now perfectly clean. Lucas bent down and helped her to her feet but she was oblivious to his presence. She clasped both her hands over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at the spot where Henry had been and then miraculously wasn't. She looked to Reece, Hanson and Lucas for solace but they were each dealing with their own private horror at Henry's sudden demise and then shocking disbelief at his brilliantly illuminated vanishing act.

Abe had had no time to really console them. He had to get to the river before Henry was discovered by anyone else - especially by the police. "Uh, everyone," he began, "I'm headed to the river to pick up Henry. That's where he, you know, comes back." He looked from one to the other to see if he was getting through. He jingled his keys and held up a duffel bag. "We gotta go." When they slowly became aware once again of their surroundings, he gave a little smile and nod of his head towards the door. "Follow me." In a softer voice, "Jo, you can ride with me. Okay, kiddo?" He squeezed her hand as he gazed into her tear-stained face. She looked questioningly at him and nodded. "Okay. Okay, then. We're gonna go in my car." He led her as quickly as he could to his car and hoped the others would follow. The sinking feeling in his gut had to be ignored for now. Whether or not they chose to follow him was beyond his control. All he knew was that he had to get to Henry as quickly as he could. _'A police siren and flashing lights would be better.'_ One look at Jo and the others, though, told him that that was not going to happen. _'On my way, Pops.'_

Jo's POV

Her mind raced and begged for logical answers. Henry had been shot. He had died. He had vanished in a brilliant flash of light just as he had said he did. _'Just as he had down on that subway platform when I'd heard the gun shots and found the photo and his watch.'_ And, she realized, when he had jumped off the roof of Grand Central with Koehler, and after he had died in the crash of that subway car right before they'd met. Yes, he had told her the night before and elaborated more in Reece's office to explain the same flash of light associated with Farber/Adam, another immortal. Her heart raced and her hands trembled as she shakily wiped away tears that refused to end their flow.

She looked over at Abe who was driving to the river with little more urgency than to the local grocery. "How do you do it, Abe?" Her voice quietly shuddered out of her. "This - was horrible!" She broke down again in gut-wrenching sobs.

Abe reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Yeah, I know." He replied quietly. "But it's horrible for him, too. Physically, he'll be all healed again." He gave her a quick look as he veered the car through traffic as fast as he could. "It's the emotional healing that comes later. Truth be told, he still has a lot of emotional scars. It's important to be as supportive of him as we can. The closer you get to him, the more he lets you in, the more his pain becomes a shared pain. But we get through it together." He gaved her shoulder another quick squeeze and returned his hand to the steering wheel to park the car. "How do I do it? Love. He's my dad and I love him. Simple as that." They'd arrived and, thankfully, Henry had managed to find some kind of clothing and was waiting for them.

Hanson's POV

In all his years on the force, he'd witnessed a lot of murder victims and severely injured people. But nothing like what he'd seen happen to the Doc. That is, someone dying and vanishing into thin air. If he'd had any doubts before about what Henry had shared with them, they were all cast aside the moment he'd vanished. He liked the guy, and respected him and what he had come to mean to his partner, Jo. And Hanson was a tough guy, tough as nails but with a heart as big as all outdoors. He'd functioned with a world view of mostly black and white. Good and bad. Right and wrong. That's what had kept him moving from day to day. That is, until he'd met the Doc. Henry's Sherlockian gift of observation and his ability to also draw on his personal archive of experiences and information had prompted Hanson to include the nuances of any given situation. Sometimes. But he was getting there.

He'd had a hard time keeping it together as Henry'd suffered. The cop in him had caused him to pursue the SUV on foot in a vain attempt to subdue the shooter, but he'd failed. And after Henry's body had vanished, the foundation of his world had been shaken to its core. Forever. Never again would he look at that crazy cracker in the same way. And it was the cop in him that helped him hold it together and follow Henry's son, Abe (his son!), to the river. Even though his own breathing was shallow and his palms were sweaty, he'd managed to keep up with Abe's car. He had to. Henry had to be there. Alive. Like he'd said. _'Hand to God, Doc, you better be there. Please be there, Henry.'_

Reece's POV

She'd had practically a sleepless night the night before, largely because of what she'd found out about their eccentric and mysterious medical examiner. She'd believed it on paper but had not planned to witness it for herself. His dying and rebirth. She'd taken his word for it. There was no need to rock her world any further than it already had been. But watching Henry lie there, bloody, in pain, but unable to move or speak, wrenched her heart. And when he vanished, it exploded on her senses. _'I am losing my mind.'_ She stared dumbfoundedly at the spot where Henry's torn and bloody body had been - and then was not. _'I am losing my ever lovin'_ _ **mind**_ _!'_ Jo's sobs tore at her heart but she had not the wherewithall to comfort her. It was as if she were in a dream and the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat growing louder and louder. She put her hands to her cheeks and felt the moisture of tears she'd unknowingly shed. But she dug into every bit of sanity and calm she had left and told herself, _'He'll be fine. That's what he said. We go get him from the river. That's what he said.'_ The tears flowed more heavily but she wiped them away. It did no good. She was vaguely aware that someone's arm was around her, squeezing her shoulder. _'Why do we women have to be the ones who cry? Why do we care so much we have to cry?'_ Abe was heading out the door, bidding them to follow him to retrieve Henry. _'Yes. We're coming, Henry. We're coming.'_

Lucas' POV

 _'Whoa. Like, whoa, dude. Where'd you go?'_ He looked around the shop as if to find the immortal man standing somewhere, smiling, his trick played and, everything cool again. _'This is not - this is - this is terrible, so terrible beyond belief.'_ He looked up again to the shop's door to see Hanson as he'd run back out and was firing his weapon at - someone who'd just gunned the Doc down? Was this even **_real_**? And was that Jo sobbing? He'd felt that he should do something other than just stand there sort of in shock. But his brain was not firing on all thrusters and his mouth wouldn't open. His legs were rooted to the spot. Abe was saying something about - _'Abe! Henry's son! Oh...okay. Abe's telling us to follow him to the river to pick up Henry. Pick up - his Dad.'_ Lucas shook his head to rid his mind of the cobwebs. Then something kicked in and he helped Jo to her feet and put a comforting arm around her and the Lieutenant's shoulders. He'd looked at them on either side of him. As they'd cried he really didn't know what to say. So he'd just patted their shoulders, As they'd left the shop and followed Abe outside, Abe had pulled Jo away from him and he'd released his grasp. He'd fallen behind the Lieutenant and followed Hanson to his car. Just as well. He'd had to wipe his own tears away, anyway. Suddenly, he didn't feel so good. But he could only imagine what the Doc was going through. _'Abe said we have to get to the river.'_ Realization had struck him. _'Yeah, before he gets arrested again for public indecency!'_ His step had quickened a bit. _' Hang on, boss, we're on our way!'_

After they pick Henry up from the river...

The weary group returns to the antique shop. This time the three law enforcers unholster their weapons and face the street, intent upon not having a repeat performance, as the other three enter the shop. Once inside, they make their way to the second floor and seat themselves at the kitchen table. Abe quickly serves up lasagne that has been been warming in the oven. After a quick shower and change into his usual dapper outerwear, Henry joins them and gratefully inhales the plate of food Abe offers him. After the meal, all eyes seem to be on Henry. So he speaks.

"As traumatic as things have been for all of us today," he begins, "I'm afraid that there is even more unpleasantness to share with you." He looks apologetically at Jo and pulls his lips in. "When we were at your house earlier, I saw the same SUV slowly roll by as I sat on the stoop. At the time I thought it odd that the driver should be travelling so slowly as there was no traffic of any kind on the street. At first I thought they were lost or perhaps uncertain of their destination, but I made note of the license plate: ABY 4091."

"Excellent." Reece says. "We can run that plate to see who the car is registered to."

Henry sighs. "There's more." They all cringe as they wait for his next words. "There's no need to run the plate to find out who the car is registered to. That vehicle was owned by the serial killer, Mark Bentley."

Jo freezes when she realizes that he's the suspect she'd had to shoot and kill. Her first time killing someone either on or off the job. Henry eyes her but continues. "As they drove slowly past your house, Jo, it would have been so easy for them to have shot me then, but they didn't." He lowers his head as if searching for the right words. "I don't believe that I was the target, Jo. You were."

"Wait a minute," Hanson interrupts. "Are you saying they wanted to shoot Jo? Not you?"

"That's my deduction." He looks back at Jo who remains silent but her furrowed brow indicates the wheels are turning inside her head. "You, Jo, were in the direct line of fire. Had I not turned when I did, the bullet would have hit _you_." He sees that she understands now. "When the driver's side window rolled down and the rifle barrel came into view, I also got a glimps of a man in the driver's seat and a woman in the passenger seat. I'm willing to bet that they were Mark Bentley's son, Devin, and his widow, Kendall."

"Revenge?" Jo whispers. She looks worriedly at Henry who nods to affirm her correct conclusion


	6. Safety Net Ch 14

_Henry sighs..."That vehicle was owned by the serial killer, Mark Bentley...I don't believe that I was the target, Jo. You were...When the driver's side window rolled down and the rifle barrel came into view, I also got a glimpse of a man in the driver's seat and a woman in the passenger seat. I'm willing to bet that they were Mark Bentley's son, Devin, and his widow, Kendall."_

 _"Revenge?" Jo whispers. She looks worriedly at Henry who nods to affirm her correct conclusion._

Lt. Reece studies the Doctor and Jo for a few seconds. "We'll put a trace on that vehicle just to confirm. The license plate could have been stolen or the vehicle could have been sold to someone else by now."

Henry nods. "It's possible, Lieutenant, but I'm pretty sure of what I saw."

"How are you so sure about the license plate number and Mark Bentley as the registered owner?" Hanson queries.

Henry sighs and lowers his eyes because he didn't want to look at Jo. "After his demise, I'd read through the case file in order to confirm something that had caught my attention earlier in the investigation. The DMV records had been a part of the file and today it simply came back to me." Despite the fact that his secret was now out to his houseguests, he didn't want to tell them of how Bentley had stabbed him on the steps of the Frenchman's house. The dark SUV parked in front of her house that night had meant nothing to him then. He'd only wanted to save the Frenchman from the deranged man, which he did. But as he'd watched the slow-moving SUV pass Jo's house earlier that day, it and the license plate number began to pick at his memories. In the shower, he'd fought to dredge the memory back up and it had finally popped out after he'd delighted his insides with Abe's lasagne. _'Nothing like a good hot meal to bring a man back up to speed after a violent death.'_

"We'll still run a trace first." Reece reiterates as she ends a call to the precinct on her cell phone. She pockets the phone and lectures them all. "We want to be absolutely sure of who we're going after before we issue a BOLO. But we're gonna get these so-and-so's." She levels a look at Henry, then at Jo, who rises as if to accompany Hanson and her back to the precinct. "Martinez, it's probably best that you remain here for now, " she puts up a hand to stop Jo's protest, "or check into a hotel. Wherever you decide to stay, I wouldn't advise that you go back to your place just yet."

Jo bites her lip but reluctantly complies. "Yes, Sir."

"We'll keep a watch on you in the meantime."

"Police protection." Jo rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath. She wants to be _out_ there in the frey. Not cooped up somewhere twiddling her thumbs while others search for some bozo who wants to off her. Even if it means being cooped up with delectable Henry and lovable Abe. She's a cop and her first instinct is to protect and serve. Not wimp out while others do it for her.

Hanson and Reece thank their hosts for the wonderful meal as they leave the shop with Lucas in tow, who does likewise. Hanson points at Jo. "Don't worry. We're gonna find this guy." He points at Henry. "Take care of her, Doc." Jo puts a hand on her hip and shoots him a look. "Well, as much as she'll let ya." He laughs.

Henry follows them down to lock the shop's door behind them. They pause and look at Henry for a few moments. Reece extends her hand and he takes it. She smiles warmly as she looks up at him. "It's finally a pleasure to _really_ meet you, Dr. Morgan." He bows his head slightly and smiles back.

Hanson pats him on the shoulder, smiles, and shakes his head. "You crazy cracker." Henry's smile turns into a broad grin.

The two of them exit the shop as an unmarked car pulls up across the street. _'Jo's protection._ ' Henry concludes and he recognizes them from the precinct.

Lucas smiles sheepishly at Henry and quietly says, "See ya later, boss." Henry nods, smiles and locks the door after he leaves.

Devin Bentley and his girlfriend, Nina, burst into the home he still shares with his mother, Kendall. He takes the stairs two at a time in a breathless rush to get to his bedroom. Once they're inside, he shuts the door and locks it.

"Is that you, Devin?" His mother calls up from the kitchen. "Dinner's not quite ready yet." She wipes her hand on a kitchen towel and walks out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs. "Honey? Why'd you rush in like that?" She looks up towards his bedroom door.

He and Nina exchange panicked looks. "I thought you said she was out of town?" Nina whispered through clenched teeth.

"She must have come back early to, " he flops his arm up then down quickly, "surprise me. She's big on surprises." He grittingly whispers back. He schools his features, takes a few deep breaths and opens the door. He manages to look calm as he views his mother at the bottom of the stairs. "I, uh, well, that is, Nina and I have plans for tonight. We don't want to miss the first showing of the movie."

"Awww, you're not home for dinner tonight?" He smirks to himself at how disappointed his mother is; his dear, sweet mother. She, who couldn't keep Dad from his extracurricular criminal activities and she, who never understood him or the special bond he and his father had shared. Dear, sweet Mom, who never supported either one of them in any of their interests. _'She's just like that cow of a cop who shot Dad dead. If she'd done her duty as a wife, that she-devil cop wouldn't have killed Dad.'_

"NO!" His mother jumps at the sudden loud anger in his voice. He calms himself again. "Sorry, no. Like I said, Nina and I are taking in a movie. We don't have much time, so..." He steps back into the room and shuts the door again. He looks over at Nina as he tries to clear his head. _'She'll do for now. At least she supports me.'_ He walks over, embraces her and they share a wantonly desperate kiss. They fall onto his bed as he proceeds to ravage her, much to her delight.

"You shot some guy, not that Detective, you know." Nina manages to sigh out as he smothers her with kisses, but doesn't respond. "Are we gonna go after her again?"

His hands close around her throat and he angrily demands that she shut up. "I told you! That's not just some guy, it's her boyfriend. I've been following them both and I seen how they act with each other. They got the hots for each other." He loosens his grip and caresses her face then laces his fingers through her short, black locks. Suddenly, he grips her hair tightly in his fists which causes her to wince in pain.

She gratefully accepts the pain, though. It's their way. It's what she likes. The pain and pleasure of what he gives her. Her petite frame struggles to breathe under the weight of his much larger one, but it excites her. Near death. Longing. Wanting him. She remembers salivating as she'd watched him aim the rifle at his enemy - their enemy - and pull the trigger. She'd watched the man collapse, a bloody mess. The horror on the faces of those who'd witnessed it was ever so exciting to her. The fact that she could be in the company of a man like Devin, a man who could take charge of his own life like that and right a wrong. _'It was so masculine, brutish; so - alpha male.'_ She was lost in some type of craze-minded ecstacy.

"If I didn't kill her, then taking that fancy dressin' boyfriend away from her like she took Dad away from _me_ ," he breathes heavily as he loosens his grip on her hair and gently massages her scalp, "that's just as good." They escalate their mutual, frenzied ravage of each other.

"Devin?" His mother's voice wafts up the stairs. "Devin, the police are here." The tinge of worry in her voice only aggravates him. _Always_ aggravates him. But - police? His eyes desperately search the room for his rifle. _'Left it in the SUV.'_ He curses to himself and bangs the bed with both fists in an uncontrollable rage. _'No, no, NO! NO! NO!'_ He grabs Nina up off of the bed and holds her arm tightly with one hand while he searches his bureau drawers with the other. Then his fingers graze the handle of the jackknife his father had given him on his 11th birthday over his mother's concerned protests. "Time to show everyone how much you love me, Nina. How much a real woman shows her love for her man."

"Devin! Devin Bentley! This is the NYPD. Show yourself. Show yourself now. Come out with your hands up." Det. Hanson's voice barks the commands at him over the muffled sobs of his mother, Kendall Bentley.

"Okay, okay!" (silence) "Coming out." The troubled 19-year-old slowly emerges from his bedroom as he holds the small knife to the confused young woman's throat. "I'll kill her! I'll slit her _throat_ if you come near me!"

"Baby?" Nina whimpers. "You wouldn't kill _me_?"

"Shut up, Nina." Devin warns her.

"Not me, baby, I love you."

"Shut! Up! Nina!"

"Drop the knife, son. Let her go." Hanson and a handful of uniformed cops train their weapons on Devin. "It's over, Devin." Hanson slowly advances up the staircase towards the pair.

"Stay away from me, man." Devin warns, his face dark with rage. "I'll cut her!"

Hanson stops halfway up. "Okay. Okay." He says quietly but he doesn't lower his weapon. "Just put the knife down and let the girl go."

Devin shakes his head and laughs grimly. He clutches Nina and the knife even tighter.

"Devin, please do what they say!" Kendall pleads tearfully.

"Just be quiet, Mom!" He yells over Kendall's tearful plea. "You never understood. Nobody ever understood!" Suddenly he shoves Nina towards the banister and she stumbles down the first two steps and catches herself. Devin steps back with the knife to his own throat now. "It's no use anymore. Just no use trying to make ANYBODY UNDERSTAND!"

Hanson fires at Devin, the bullet pierces his right shoulder. The knife flies from his hand as he slams back onto the wall and drops to the floor, groaning. Hanson whips out his cuffs and still pointing his weapon at Devin, sprints up the stairs past a distraught Nina and kicks the knife out of anyone's reach. He cuffs him as he reads his rights to him. "Call for a bus!" He barks the order to his backup detail who swiftly comply. As Devin is transported to the hospital and Nina is taken down to the precinct, Hanson called it in to Lt. Reece, then to Jo, that the suspect was in custody. They grudgingly realize, though, that he cannot be charged with the murder of one Henry Morgan. They'd have to settle for the charge of attempted murder of an officer of the law, one Det. Jo Martinez. As they interrogate him, it soon becomes apparent that an insanity plea might be more in order because it appears he is as deranged as his father was. His girlfriend, Nina Young, included.

Back at the antique shop...

"Okay...Yeah...Wow...Okay, thanks. You're the best." Jo ends the call on her cell phone and pockets it. She turns to Henry and smiles. "Well. It appears that I can go on home, after all. Devin Bentley was the culprit, as you suspected. He'll be charged with my attempted murder and his girlfriend will be charged as an accomplice."

She and Henry once again occupy the couch they had fallen asleep on together the night before.

"I see." Henry smiles as his eyes slide back and forth as he gathers the courage to speak further. "You're welcome to stay." He quietly offers. "We have a guest room and the bed is much more comfortable than this couch."

She laughs softly and shakes her head. "Nope. No, thank you. I-I'd best be going on home." He nods slightly and pulls his lips in. She recognizes that quirky mannerism. _'He does that when he doesn't like something but doesn't trust himself to speak.'_

"Um, on second thought, what's Abe got up his sleeve for dinner?"

Henry looks up at her pleasantly surprised, his open mouth quickly turns into a wide grin. "Uh, I'm not quite sure. Let's see," he knits his brow in mock seriousness, "this is his new recipe night but I'm sure we'll enjoy it."

Alright, then. I'll stay."

"Great!"

"Just for tonight."

"Oh, of course."

"Just to, you know, keep each other company after what you went through when you caught that bullet meant for me." She studies the features of this weird, adorable, impossible, and handsome man she's fallen in love with. Once an unwilling participant in his counter-clockwise world, she now wishes to share the version of time that fate has dealt him. She'd heard him refer to his unusual condition as a curse, but she knows it's a blessing. Perhaps one day she could help him realize it, too. "Now, I'm just spending the night. Nothing else."

"Jo, what do you take me for? If nothing else, I shall ever remain a gentleman."

"Just making sure, you know. I want things between us to be - right. Don't wanna mess things up."

He says nothing, just gets up and pulls her along as she had done to him before. They walk to the shop's front door with her promise to retrieve a few overnight items from her place and return in time for dinner. Since she was not allowed to participate in the investigation and apprehension of her assailant, Devin Bentley, there was no paperwork for her to complete. Reece said she could give her statement when she came to work the next day. Henry, likewise, had no autopsy to perform because the dead body was himself, resurrected. So they would enjoy this rare bit of free time together. Right before she leaves, he presses her right hand to his lips and a tingle goes up her arm and down her spine. _'How adorably old-fashioned, Mr. 1779.'_ She steps forward and pecks him on the cheek. "See ya in a few. Say good-bye to Abe but let him know I'll be back soon?" He nods and smiles.

He watches her until her car disappears down the block. As he turns around, he sees Abe grinning at him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down. "Do not look at me like that." Henry chides his son.

"What? I'm just looking. Smiling. See-ing." He leans forward with a grin to rival that of the Cheshire Cat in the fairytale. "Shall I make myself scarce tonight? I mean, she is coming back, right?" He grins broader and wiggles his eyebrows up and down again but faster.

Henry sighs. "Yes, she is. She's gone to gather a few items from her place and then she'll be back in time for dinner." He tries to pass the information to his son (whom he feels is very badly misbehaving right now) in a nonchalant manner, but it doesn't work.

"Um, well, okay. Am I here or gone, then?"

"Do what you wish, Abraham, after you've prepared dinner, but for Heaven's sake, wipe that ridiculous smirk off of your face. I won't stand for you to make Jo uncomfortable tonight."

"Uh, no, I'll leave that to you." He ignores Henry's scowl. "Alright. Leaving to make dinner."

Henry fights the urge to smile as he watches Abe climb the stairs to the kitchen. Abe turns to look at his father who scowls more darkly at him. Abe quickly ascends the stairs and disappears into the kitchen. Despite the day's unnerving events, it's been decades since he's felt so happy. So - blessed.


	7. Safety Net Ch 15

Jo drives the short distance from the antique shop to her place. Once there, she makes quick business of gathering toiletries and a change of clothes for her overnight stay at Henry and Abe's. Just for the night, she reminds herself, nothing more. _'Not gonna mess this up.'_ She'd been half asleep - well, he had been, too - when he'd shared his long story with her the other night. Even if she had been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, there were still a thousand million questions she had for him. As she moves about, the ring on the chain around her neck sways gently back and forth and softly grazes against her skin. Sean's ring. She stands in front of her mirror and clutches the ring tenderly in her fist. Sean will always have his place in her heart, she knows. Always. He was a good man and they'd shared a deep, true love for an all too brief period of time. He was never coming back, though. She'd finally reconciled herself to that fact. And now it was time for her to move on. She carefully removes the chain from around her neck and gazes at the ring as she holds it in her hand. She kisses it and closes her fingers around it one last time. Her eyes now smarting with unshed tears, she chokes out, "Good-bye, Sean." A sob breaks through along with the tears. "I'll never forget you, sweetheart." She puts the chain and ring in a small keepsake box and lovingly places it and his photo into the footlocker in the back of the closet. She braces herself for the usual wave of pain and longing to hit her...but it doesn't. _'That's strange. I'm usually a sack of tears at the mere mention of his name.'_ She's grateful but then the pang of guilt hits her instead. Henry had mentioned that once when he'd shared about the loss of his wife, Abigail, and his emotional journey afterwards. The pain of loss and then the eventual guilt as the pain lessened over time.

 _'Time.'_ she shakes her head. _'He's got nothing but time. Time means nothing to him.'_ But it means everything to her. And whatever little time she has left on this earth, she's determined to find out if they can spend it together.

Jo exits her car and walks up to the door of the antique shop. She unknowingly startles a hooded figure across the street, who jumps into a darkened alley. Henry waves to her as he descends the stairs and quickly makes his way through the shop to let her in. She blushingly returns his wave, her heart flutters a bit. _'Get a grip, girl.'_ She tells herself. Her giddiness embarrasses her.

The hooded figure watches from the alley as Henry opens the door and welcomes Jo inside. "Looks like you've got some pretty nice company, Doctor." He whispers to himself. "Wouldn't want to spoil your evening." He plucks his cell phone from his pocket and dials a number. The call is not answered and goes to voicemail. "Yeah, I'm outside that shop where you said he lives with Abe. You _said_ it was important that I contact him, so _why_ am I leaving a voicemail?" He sighs. "I can't bother him tonight, though. Tomorrow morning. Will explain later. And PICK UP next time I call you!" He ends the call, shoves the phone back into his pocket and walks away in the direction he'd come from.

"LU-cy? I'm HO-ome." Mike Hanson laughingly announces his arrival to his wife, Karen, with his best Ricky Ricardo imitation.

"Oh, stop it." She laughs and meets him with a kiss. "Dinner's ready." She holds the edges of her apron and curtsies. Her long, red tresses fall forward over her shoulders as she playfully dips her head to the side.

He mockingly bows from the waist, then sniffs and smiles broadly. "Meatloaf! My favorite!" He hugs her and kisses her on the forehead. He stealthily surveys the landscape. "Where are the monsters?"

"I told you not to refer to my darling little angels that way." Her long lashes flutter quickly over her blue-ish green eyes as she feigns hurt.

"Sorry. Where are the darling little angels, then?" Before she can repond, however, sounds of a scuffle and argument sail down the stairs and reach them in the dining room. The two parents exchange knowing looks and Mike calls up the stairs, "Okay, you guys, don't make me come up there!" (silence) A loud thump is heard upstairs and then a wail from Mikey, the younger of their two sons. He shakes his head and takes the stairs two at a time. As he yanks open the door to the boys' bedroom, he finds the older boy, Donnie, rubbing Mikey's arm, who winces under the uneven pressure.

Donnie takes his hand away, looks sorrowfully at his father and pleads innocence. "I didn't do anything, Dad. He just snatched the game controller from me and his arm bumped against the bed. Honest!" He glares at his brother. "And it wasn't your turn, it was still mine!"

"Was not!" Mikey yells as he rubs his arm. "You cheated!"

"Did not!"

"You always cheat!" Mikey looks up at his father. "And he pushed me."

"Oooo, you lie." Donnie jumps up. "I didn't push him, Dad, he bumped his own stupid arm."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Mike interrupts and tries to defuse the situation. After determining there are no broken bones, a tug of war of words extracts the truth. The two rambunctious brothers agree to a shaky truce and the three of them invade the dining room and enjoy a hearty meal.

A couple of hours later, Mike and Karen bask in some quiet time, the delicious dinner now a wonderful memory and their "darling little angels" fast asleep. Mike doesn't know quite how to broach the subject; something that's weighed on his mind ever since resolution of the Valerie Nelson case. Gretchen, the baby girl she had carried and delivered for the Layne couple. He's seen the child as Child Protective Services had carted her away. The Layne couple no longer wanted the child. Mr. Layne had abandoned her and his wife, and Mrs. Layne had tried to kill her. None of the other relatives had come forward to claim the child.

The cop in him had wanted to protect her. The father in him wanted to do the same. He loved both of his sons dearly and was prouder of them than anyone could ever know. No, they weren't angels, neither were they monsters. But he and Karen had discussed how many children they'd wanted before marriage: three. And they'd definitely wanted a daughter. However, things hadn't quite worked out that way. But he'd explained the situation a bit to his wife and he feels that she might be open to - adooption. He feels he needs to give it a try and share more of his feelings about his desire to adopt the little baby girl. They talk possibilities into the wee hours of the morning after she enthusiastically agrees with him.

"You'd better get some sleep, honey." Karen looks at the clockradio on the nightstand. "Are you off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am." But even though it's been an emotional rollercoaster of a day (some details of which he _cannot_ share with his wife - or with anyone) he's almost too excited to sleep. He lies down and stares at the ceiling as he maps out his next step in pursuit of the adoption. He turns to Karen who's already drifting off to sleep. "I'll call Lieu in the morning. She should be able to help." He caresses Karen's hair, kisses her on the forehead and nestles in closer to her. _'Gretchen Hanson.'_ He smiles. ' _Boy, is Jo gonna be surprised when I tell her.'_

In a stark white and stainless steel laboratory, a white-haired man in his mid 60's, perches on a stool and studies a slide under a high-powered microscope. He marks some notes on a pad and straightens up as he rubs his eyes. He yawns just as the ringing of a cell phone catches his attention. He stands up and pats his pockets. No phone. _'Oh, good grief, where is the darn phone?'_ He looks around the lab but doesn't see it. He throws up his hands in frustration. Then he sees it on top of his briefcase near the lab's entrance. He lunges for it but, too late. The ringing stops. A sigh of exasperation escapes his lips. "Great. Just great." He complains to the empty room. The phone in his hand buzzes and the screen displays a voicemail notification. He works the phone and retrieves the voicemail.

 _(Yeah, I'm outside that shop where you said he lives with Abe. You_ _said_ _it was important that I contact him, so_ _why_ _am I leaving a voicemail? - a deep sigh - "I can't bother him tonight, though. Tomorrow morning. Will explain later. And PICK UP next time I call you!)_

He ponders the voicemail as he pockets the phone. _'Keep the phone near from now on. We're right on track.'_ As he removes his white lab coat and puts on his trench coat, he looks over at the microscope and smiles. _'Yes, sir. We're close to one of the biggest discoveries in medical science. All thanks to you, Henry. Doctor Henry Morgan.'_ Briefcase and keys in hand, he turns off the lights and exits the lab. He walks the long corridor to the lobby and waves to the night guard. "Good night, Bob."

"Night, Dr. Barnes."


	8. Safety Net Ch 16

Jo walks into the antiques shop and Henry locks the door. Over her shoulder, he sees a hooded figure emerge from the alley across the street and walk quickly away, but he doesn't let on. He considers the possibilities, but then decides he's not going to let anything spoil this evening while she's here.

"So." He turns and smiles at his attractive houseguest and does his best to focus only on her face _(And what a lovely face it is, he marvels to himself.)_

"So." Jo echoes as she smiles and raises her eyebrows.

"Yes. Yes, sorry." he blushes. "Let me show you to your room." He stiffens. "I mean the room you'll be staying in." He motions towards the stairs and she walks towards them, small bag in hand, and begins to ascend.

"I'll, uh, just be a moment. Need to check on something down here first. It's the, uh, third bedroom at the end of the hall." He shoves a thumbs-up at her and flashes his best dazzling smile. She hesitates, then nods and disappears up the stairs. The soft click-clack of her heels on the wooden floor above him fades away.

He'd had to suppress his usual gentlemanly tendencies and allow her to carry her own bag. Not even _offer_ to carry it. He chalks it up to the passage of time during which women have gradually become more empowered and independent, while he and his fellow gendermates have gradually become less knowledgeable in how to properly attend to the wants and needs of the opposite sex. Many of modern day acceptances regarding proper interactions between men and women (especially during courtship) grate strongly against his sensibilities. He is, after all, a product of his generation. In his day, gentlemanly deportment was believed to be a necessary part of a young man's upbringing. But, in spite of his son's several admonitions, he has evolved. And for Jo - he's even willing - _eager_ \- to change.

He walks quickly back to the shop's door and peers outside, up and down the streets. Then he chides himself for having succumbed once more to his paranoia, and quickly makes his way to the kitchen upstairs.

"Where's Abe?" Jo calls to him from down the hall.

"He's, uh, out." He loudly responds as he removes Abe's delicious Thai pumpkin soup from the burner and turns off the heat. He fans the soup's pleasant aroma towards his face as he deeply inhales it. "Ahhhh." he sighs. "Abe out ** _did_** himself this time." He loudly proclaims. "You're going to love-" he turns as Jo clears her throat. She stands on the other side of the kitchen island and smiles mischeviously at him.

"Right. Right." he lowers his voice and grins, slightly embarrassed. He motions towards the table. "Please be seated, my lady."

She mock frowns at him as she seats herself and he serves them both a piping hot bowl of the exotic broth.

"Umm, you're right." She licks her lips and wipes her mouth with her napkin. "This tastes great!" She takes another spoonful. "Oh, yeah, he's gotta give me this recipe." She points downward to her bowl.

"Well, good luck with that. Abe doesn't like sharing his secrets." His smile waivers a bit at that last word.

"Runs in the family, then." Jo wryly points out.

Henry grimaces and puts his spoon down. "Jo, I-"

"Henry," she shakes her head, "poor choice of words on my part. Just forget I said anything."

"No, no, you're right." He pauses. "It was wrong for me to have kept the secret of my condition from you for as long as I did. Abe wanted me to tell you months ago, but," he lowers his voice, "I was too afraid of how you would react."

She places her hand on top of his. "Henry, you had every right to be hesitant about telling me or anyone else. After some of the things you've been through, no one could blame you." She squeezes his hand and he squeezes hers back.

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I'm very grateful that you didn't run screaming from me like your head was on fire." Her jaw drops and she laughs out loud. "Thank you," he continues, "for still being in my life. Because of that, I count myself as being - very lucky." He dips his head slightly and locks eyes with her.

"You're not the only one here who feels lucky, Dr. Morgan." Her voice soft, her lips inviting.

They slowly lean closer to each other, their unfinished meals now forgotten. He releases his hand from hers and places it on her shoulder. Her skin tingles under his touch. He slides his hand down, grasps her upper arm and gently but firmly pulls her even closer. He surprises himself by what he considers to be a brutish move.

She doesn't resist, though, and revels in how just the touch of his hand takes her breath away. She likes the feel of his hand on her, the heat of it against her skin even through the fabric of her blouse. At the same time, he enjoys the heat of her skin under his hand. It's a delightfully familiar sensation they'd felt from time to time during an inadvertent touch of hands or accidental bump against each other. But it's more than a physical attraction for them. It's naturally and deliciously connected to their emotional need for each other. Their love for each other.

They pause briefly to stare into each other's eyes.

"I love you, Jo. But I won't do anything you don't want me to. I don't want to mess this up, either."

"I love you, too, Henry." she whispers. "And shut up and kiss me."

He laughs quietly, then they close their eyes as their lips softly meet. Fueled by their own desires, the kiss soon becomes more demanding and then more frantic. The world stops once more for them. They both rise and continue the kiss. A shamelessly needful kiss to make up for lost time. The sensation is intoxicating as they cling to and clutch each other in an almost desperate embrace. Their breathing becomes loud and erratic; they can't seem to get close enough to each other, can't seem to _touch_ each other enough. That feeling of wanting to share something special with the one you love is simply exhilirating. They feel as if they're going to fall off the edge of the _world_ into the sweetest abyss.

When he kisses and nuzzles her neck, he notices something. Something missing. He pulls back out of his fog and looks down at her neckline. His fingers lightly graze across her skin, the spot where Sean's ring would normally have hung from the chain. Her eyelids flutter at his touch. His eyes move up to meet her steady gaze from her large, beautiful eyes.

"Jo - are you sure?" His voice rumbles deep and throaty.

"Yes." The corners of her mouth turn up slightly into a quiet smile. "I'm sure."

Their lips crash into each other but they both seem only to want to enjoy the kiss for as long as they can hold out for air.

"Your place or mine?" His voice breathless, the need urgent.

She instinctively knows he's referring to which bedroom. "Yours." She breathlessly responds.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Reuben Barnes closes and locks the door of his unpretentious two-story home in a bedroom community on the outskirts of Ithaca, New York. He juggles his briefcase and a lidded box of files as he thumbs through his mostly junk mail which he unceremoniously dumps into a waste basket in the foyer. He deposits his briefcase and the box of files on top of the desk in his home office and takes a couple of swigs from a whiskey bottle he keeps in the bottom drawer. He winces from the liquid's burn as it goes down his throat and retrieves a curious piece of mail from his briefcase he'd received earlier that day at the Center.

The plain brown, letter-sized envelope with no return address, contains the blood work reports and DNA analysis of a patient in Bellevue Hospital, diagnosed with locked-in syndrome. "Male, white, age approx 35, listed as John Doe. As he studies the reports, he's struck by some very odd details. The patient has antibodies for many more diseases than even Ben Larson. Even for the ancient disease, Antonine Plague1, that had caused a pandemic during the Roman Empire period of 165–180 AD.

He looks inside the envelope again and pulls out a short note scrawled on a 3x5 yellow sticky that reads: _Check Room 408, Bellevue Hospital, NY City. Maybe one of your Immortals?_

His eyes widen and his breath shudders through his mouth in short pants. The DNA analysis has an extra page which looks like a cell phone photo of a section of a hospital patient form: "Report any changes in patient's condition to H? (he struggles to decipher the horrid scrawl) or Abraham Morgan." He suddenly jumps to his feet as he realizes what the first name is: Henry. Henry or Abraham Morgan! Abe! And his - father? - connected to this mysterious patient? He's beside himself with the glee that only a scientist could understand. The exultant glee of making a new discovery or successfully proving a theory to be correct. A theory he'd had about Dr. Henry Morgan for decades!

"Dr. Morgan." he slowly shakes his head in a chastising manner as he pushes everything back into the envelope and grabs his coat and keys once more. "Helping another of your kind hide in plain sight?" The four-hour drive he faces to New York City is of no consequence to him. "Abe, you and your dad have a lot of explaining to do." He pauses momentarily. "For one, if this patient can regenerate like you, Dr. Morgan, why is he being made to endure a physical condition he most likely will never recover from?" He frowns as his eyes dart from side to side. "Is he being kept in that condition - on purpose?"

He leaves his house and once inside his car, looks down at the envelope on the passenger seat beside him. "And who's responsible for putting him in that condition in the first place?" His logical mind begins to draw unseemly conclusions but he suppresses them, puts his car in gear and backs out of his driveway. No more sending incompetents like his older brother, David, to contact the Morgan men, he promises himself. "If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself." He nods emphatically to himself and zooms off to the Big Apple for some firsthand fact gathering.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Henry pauses at his bedroom door. Jo hugs him from behind and nuzzles him behind his ear which triggers a deep, pleasurable moan from him. With every fiber of his being, he wants her, but something nags at him that this is too desperate - too rushed. They haven't even gone out on a formal date yet.

One of her hands somehow manages to again find the scar on his chest. She rubs her thumb over it while her other hand creeps naughtily under his vest and shirt as her slender fingers seek his bare skin. The two sensations sear him to his core and weaken him at the knees. With one hand on the doorknob, he stills her hand that covers his scar. And he's pretty sure she's not going to like what he feels he must tell her.

She props her chin up onto his left shoulder and notices the small muscles working in his jaw, his eyes tightly shut, his brow furrowed. She breaks the embrace and begins to rub his back. "What's wrong, Henry?" she softly asks.

He cringes at the confusion and disappointment in her voice and desperately wishes he had handled the situation better. Leave it to that blasted upbringing of his to rear its ugly head at a time like this. But he refuses to treat her as if she were a common trollip, a tart. The woman _he_ loves - _this_ woman - deserves the largest measure of consideration from him. Still, he wonders, how can he tell her without losing her? He struggles to gather the right words and the courage to speak them.

The tension in his back and his rigid shoulders cause her to drop her hands from him and step back. "It's Abigail, isn't it?" she stifles a sob. "You're not ready to move on from her." Not like I've chosen to move on from Sean, she bitterly contends.

Henry whirls around to face her, astonished at her question. "No, Jo! That's not what it is."

The tears glisten in her eyes and she hugs herself as if to ward off a chill. The chill of rejection.

He takes a step towards her but stops when she automatically takes another step back. Defeated, he drops his hands and sighs. "I want things to progress the right way between us. I want to treat you the right way. The way I was raised to treat a woman of worth. Not like some fast woman I just met in a bar." he waves his hand around in frustration. "You deserve better than that, Jo."

She tilts her head to the left and eyes him up and down. The look of sorrow slowly fades from her countenance.

This is good, he thinks, because at least she's listening. He swallows and nervously clasps his hands in front of him as he continues. "There should be a proper period of courtship."

She folds her arms across her chest, her mouth tightlipped.

 _'Ah, the irritated and impatient toe-tapping stance.'_ he gloomily observes. _'She thinks me oldfashioned; an old fuddy duddy like Abigail used to say.'_ But he concedes he's a walking anomaly. A Victorian-age man with Victorian-age values trapped in an ever-changing modern day world plagued by ever decreasing mores. But he refuses to allow that incongruous fact to compromise his values; what he feels to be right.

"Our relationship should only bloom from a proper beginning. It's not worth being ruined by a five-minute roll in the hay, as you young people say. _'She's smiling. She's smiling.'_ he gleefully cheers to himself. "If you would allow me to properly court you, I can assure you that any eventual consummation will be well worth the wait." He now tilts his own head to the left as he eyes _her_ up and down.

She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. "Is that what all this hesitation is about?" She then playfully accuses, "Henry, your 'Mr Darcy' is sticking out all over."

He visibly relaxes and smiles brightly. "If, by that, you mean I am a true gentleman, then I plead guilty to such."

She steps closer and pecks him on the cheek. "And the term nowadays is knockin' boots." He frowns in confusion.

"You said a roll in the hay. It's knockin' boots." she clarifies.

"Oh, well, let me just find those theater tickets and get out of you guys' way then." Abe's taunting voice startles them as he scurries past them and into his own bedroom. Neither of them miss his broad, mischevious smile and the twinkle in his eyes as he hurries past them.

Jo smiles although she lowers her head in embarrassment. Henry, however, is most greatly annoyed. Most greatly. It's what his own father used to say to him whenever he'd misbehaved. His father had then called for the governess to administer appropriate punishment on him and he now feels it's time to do the same with his own misbehaving son.

Henry folds his arms across his chest and positions himself outside Abe's door. Abe re-opens his door, sees his father's dark scowl and quickly closes it again. Jo bites her tongue to stave off a giggle. Henry, however, doesn't budge and his scowl darkens. Abe opens the door once again.

"Oh, c'mon, Pops, can't you take a joke?"

Henry raises his head, juts his jaw out and steps forward. Abe attempts to close the door again but Henry pushes it back open with one hand.

Abe steps back into the room and whines, "Aw, c'mon, you did this to me when I was a _kid_." Henry steps into the room and gently closes the door. "I'm a grown man, for goodness sakes!"

Jo leans against the door as she grins in disbelief. Henry, the young-looking father, actually disciplining his elderly son. She covers her mouth as she listens to the mostly one-sided conversation. Abe's pleas. Pleas that fall on the deaf ears of a parent intent only upon administering punishment. After a few minutes of quiet from inside the room, she suddenly feels like an eavesdropper and decides it's best to leave the two men to sort things out themselves. _'After all, it's not like he'd strangle poor Abe.'_

Ten minutes later...

Jo sits back down at the table and resumes eating from her bowl of rewarmed soup.

"Jo," Henry says in the most matter-of-fact parental voice, "Abraham has something to tell you."

"Uh, yeah." Abe sheepishly begins. He shoots a quick glance at his father, then back at Jo. "Please accept my apology. I was out of line and, uh," he glances at Henry again, then back at Jo, "it was disrespectful what I said and, uh, it won't happen again." He takes a deep breath and looks at Henry as if seeking approval. Henry nods his head towards Jo so Abe turns his attention back to her.

She feels both overwhelmed by, and in awe of, the family dynamics of these two impossible men who have both come to mean so much to her. First Henry's unexpected but refreshing chivalry, now Abe's parentally-enforced but sincere apology have given her a privileged view into what it's going to be like having them as part of her life.

"Apology accepted." She smiles at Abe and squeezes his hand. He returns both gestures.

Abe gives Henry a cautious stare and holds up the two theater tickets (for Fawn and himself). "May I go out and play now?"

Jo gulps loudly and turns to her bowl of soup. She steals a look up at Henry who struggles the same as she does to contain laughter.

"Yes." Henry manages. "And I'm sure you've learned your lesson." Abe nods deeply and slowly as the two of them walk to the head of the stairs.

Abe turns and calls over Henry's shoulder to Jo. "See ya, Jo."

"Bye, Abe." She grins, shakes her head, and takes another spoonful of soup. "Oh, the soup is delicious, Abe. Thank you."

"Glad you like it. Enjoy." He turns his attention to his father whose countenance appears a lot sunnier now. The two men silently study each other.

Henry places his hand on Abe's shoulder. "She's special to me, Abraham." He says quietly. "Very special."

Abe closes his eyes and nods. "I know, Pops. Sometimes this (he points to his mouth) gets ahead of this (he points to his head)."

"And I'm sure you understand how important it is to properly cultivate a relationship with a woman who is very special to you." His eyes drop to the two tickets in Abe's hands. "Fawn?"

"Uh, yeah." Abe looks down at the tickets, then back up at his father. "She's very special, too."

"I like her. She couldn't get a better man." Henry says proudly. "Well, enjoy your evening, son."

"You, too, Pops." Abe calls over his shoulder as he descends the stairs, "I'll lock up."

He slowly walks back into the kitchen, his hands shoved down into his pockets.

Jo watches him as he stares off into space, lost in thought again. Then he takes a deep breath and turns to her.

"What would you say to a night at the cinema?"

She smilingly accepts. "And it's 'take in a movie', not a night at the cinema. Nobody says cinema anymore, Henry."

"Hmm...take in a movie." They clear the kitchen and grab their coats. "Fewer words, I grant you, but I prefer my more sophisticated phraseology."

Their discussion turns from modern colloquialism versus outdated phraseology, to movie choices during the cab ride to the cinema. Henry's word preference.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Bellevue Hospital, 4th floor nurses' station...

"Well, I'm out." A tall, slender, male nurse in his early 30's signs out and loudly plops the pen down on the clipboard. He runs a hand over his unruly crop of auburn curls. His hazel eyes slowly undress the 20-something blond nurse behind the counter who pretends to dislike his invasive gaze. He leans over the counter. "Course, I could hang around til the end of your shift, ya know, just to make sure you," he reaches over and playfully adjusts her name tag, "make it home safely."

She feigns disapproval. "I'm a big girl, Vic. Don't need you or anybody else to keep me safe." She pretends to engross herself in already completed paperwork.

He slides around the counter to sit in the chair next to her. "Oh, yeah, Amy, I forgot. You have your friends to keep you safe: Smith and Wesson." He laughs and fistbumps her on the shoulder. She rolls her eyes and turns away from him to answer a phone call.

"Yes." She looks up at the ceiling and responds again. "We check him every four hours and turn him, just like his chart says." She looks at Vic and silently gags as she crosses her eyes at the phone receiver. He covers his mouth and quickly moves several feet away to stifle his laughter.

"Yes, yes," she replies, past boredom, "any changes to his condition are noted and the attending nurse signs off on his chart." She looks over at Vic and motions with her free hand to indicate a talkative person. "Fine, fine. Yes, no problem." She nods in an attempt to hurry the end of the call. "Anytime. Good-bye." She hangs up. "Good-BY-yeeeee." She growls at the phone.

Vic quickly takes his seat again. "One of these days you're gonna get in trouble with that type of behavior."

"Oh, and who's gonna tell on me?" She flirtingly bats her eyes at him.

"That guy in Room 408." He replies.

"The Veggie Guy?" She scoffs. "Get real. Whoever did a job on him, did it to last forever. He won't be shaking off that locked-in syndrome any time soon." She points to Vic with her pen. "Not in my lifetime, not in yours."

"The Veggie Guy. That's what you guys call him? That's hard." He looks around before he speaks. "Word is - his blood is kind of, I don't know, kind of funny. Not like anybody else's." He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice. "Remember those guys who were on the news a few days ago and one of them claimed to have all these antibodies in his blood? Well, the Veggie Guy has a ton of 'em, babe."He straightens up. "I, uh, thought somebody should know about it."

"What did you do, Vic?"

"Who said I did anything?" He spreads his hands. "I'm just sayin' that IF somebody was to send a copy of his bloodwork and DNA analysis to some guy like that Dr. Barnes at that research facility, well..."

"You didn't!"

"I-I didn't say that I did."

"You moron!"

"Amy -"

"You're gonna get us all in trouble, Vic." She fights back tears as she demands, "Get out of here." (he protests) "Go on, get out of here!" She whispers hoarsely through clenched teeth.

He reluctantly rises to leave. "Okay. Okay. But you'll change your tune when you see how famous I become." He walks over to the elevators and pushes the down button. "You'll see."

Notes: 1The Antonine Plague of 165–180 AD, also known as the Plague of Galen (from the name of the Greek physician living in the Roman Empire who described it), was an ancient pandemic brought back to the Roman Empire by troops returning from campaigns in the Near East. Scholars have suspected it to have been either smallpox[1] or measles,[2] but the true cause remains undetermined. The epidemic may have claimed the life of a Roman emperor, Lucius Verus, who died in 169 and was the co-regent of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, whose family name, Antoninus, has become associated with the epidemic. The disease broke out again nine years later, according to the Roman historian Dio Cassius (155–235), causing up to 2,000 deaths a day in Rome, one quarter of those who were affected, giving the disease a mortality rate of about 25%.[3] The total deaths have been estimated[by whom?] at five million,[4] and the disease killed as much as one-third of the population in some areas and devastated the Roman army.[5] Ancient sources agree that the epidemic appeared first during the Roman siege of Seleucia in the winter of 165–166.[6] Ammianus Marcellinus reports that the plague spread to Gaul and to the legions along the Rhine. Eutropius asserts that a large population died throughout the Empire.[7] Rafe de Crespigny speculates that the plague may have also broken out in Eastern Han China before 166, given notices of plagues in Chinese records. The plague had an impact on Roman culture and literature, and may have severely affected Indo-Roman trade relations in the Indian Ocean. wiki/Antonine_Plague 


	9. Safety Net Ch 17

Henry hails a cab as Jo observes his casual and relaxed manner. "How do you do it, Henry?" she marvels. "I mean...you were...killed, murdered today." He drops his hand and turns to her just as a cab pulls up. He opens the door for her and they climb in. The shop's address given to the driver, the cab pulls off.

They ride in silence but Henry reaches over and covers her small slender hand with his much larger one. Gentle hand, she observes. She looks up at him and smiles to let him know his answer can wait until they have more privacy.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" She asks in an attempt at casual conversation.

"Well, I'm sure that hobbits don't exist, but it was still an enjoyable story."

"Are you sure they don't exist?" She smiles and raises an eyebrow towards him.

He lowers his head and grins. "Quite sure." He looks at her and erupts in laughter as he shakes his head.

"How do you know?" Her voice now has a sing-song manner to it.

 _'Mischievious little vixen.'_ He thinks to himself. _'Bad enough that I've always had Abe's sly remarks and mischievious manner to deal with.'_ He looks at her again but can't help but smile. _'Et tu, Brute?'_ The last thought meant in jest starkly reminds him of Adam and how he'd reported his first death. Death from being stabbed in the stomach by a Roman soldier most likely on the Ides of March, the same date as Julius Caesars' death. It startles him back to reality and drains the good humor from him.

Jo senses the sudden change in his demeanor; the sudden fade of his smile and the icy look in his eyes. "Hey." she says quietly as she squeezes his hand and tries to draw his attention back to the conversation.

"Sorry." he says as he offers her a weak smile that quickly fades away again. He raises their hands and presses her fingers to his lips and keeps them there. He closes his eyes and adjusts and re-adjusts his grip around her hand as if to soothe himself.

She's moved almost to tears but she doesn't know why. Doesn't know what brought on this sudden change in him. She aches for him to share his obviously troubling thoughts with her so that she can comfort him. The cab driver interrupts both their reveries.

"We're here." the middle-aged man, a recent Syrian immigrant, informs them. He smiles at their reflection in the rearview mirror and reports the fare charge. All of a sudden he frowns at Henry's reflection as he states in broken English, "I pick you up from East River once and bring you to this place." He leans out of his window and looks up at the sign. "Yes, Abe's Antiques." He looks over his shoulder at Henry with a twinkle in his eye. "Was chilly night then, eh, my friend?" He accepts the proffered money and winks as Henry's face drains of all color.

"Keep the change." Henry grunts as he and Jo hurriedly exit the cab and enter the shop. As he locks the door he feels safe again. The outside world seems to be closing in on him lately, more than usual. The cab's tail lights disappear down the block into the now dusky evening shade and he squints resentfully at it as he recalls the cab driver's disconcerting remarks. Jo's hand tugs his and gently leads him away from the door and up the stairs. Things would be so much bleaker without this wonderful woman in his life, he realizes. Against his will, the corners of his mouth tug upward into a reluctant smile.

"That's more like it." Jo says, relieved to see the twinkle return to his sexy brown eyes. As they approach their now familiar perch in the living area, the couch, she seats herself and then pulls him down next to her. He puts his arm around her and they pull in for a warm kiss.

"So tell me about these rules of courtship." she says as she rests her head on his shoulder and gently rubs his chest, dangerously close to that most sensitive spot, his scar from his original death.

He gives a short laugh. "Well, in _my_ courtship days, known as the Regency Era-"

"Why was it called the Regency Era?" she interrupts.

"Uh, well, King George III was deemed unfit to rule and he was replaced by his son, Prince George, who later became King George IV, after his father's death. But during the Regency Era from 1811 to 1820, he ruled by proxy and was called the Prince Regent."

"Oh, okay. You guys had it all figured out back then, didn't you?"

He chuckles. "Or so we thought."

"Anyway, there were many prohibitions put upon the unmarried. For instance, prior to an engagement, a couple could not converse privately or be alone together in a room."

"Well, rule ONE violated BIG time already." She sits up and stares wide-eyed at him.

"Quite so." he happily acknowledges and continues. "An unmarried couple could not travel unchaperoned in a carriage."

"A car." She points out. 'Rule TWO scratched, as well."

He chuckles and continues. "They could not address each other by their Christian names."

"Is _that_ why you called me Detective for so long?"

"Mmm, partly, yes. But you were - are - entitled to be addressed by your proper title, are you not? I mean you've worked hard to achieve the status you now hold, right?"

"Yes, I understand." She frowns. "Did I always call you - hmm, no, I stopped calling you Dr. Morgan early on, didn't I?" she sheepishly asks. He sighs and smiles but chooses not to respond. "I started calling you Henry almost right off the bat."

"You needn't worry about that, Jo. You are as much a product of your generation as I am of mine. As Abe has relentlessly pointed out to me over the past several decades, I've got to learn to swing with the times." He raises and shakes the index finger of each hand. "Go with the flow, as Lucas likes to say." He lolls his head from side to side as he windmills his hands around each other. "

She snickers at his animations.

"Therefore, I have never taken any offense at your familiar address of me. As a matter of fact, _your_ particular pronunciation of my given name has elevated my blood pressure in the most delightful manner on many an occasion." He smiles down at her as he hugs her closer.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Continue, kind sir."

"Yes. Oh, they - we - were not permitted to either correspond with, or give gifts to, one another."

"Sucks." She sighs. "Rule Three violated, somewhat, but most definitely, Rule Four."

"Technically, yes, but unavoidable given the nature of our jobs."

She nods in agreement, her eyebrows raised. "But Rule Five, the gift giving. Does that include meals?" She looks at him in mock apprehension.

"Ahhh, I won't tell if you won't. And, again, technically, those meals you've shared here were chaperoned by Abe and/or could be construed as gifts from Abe."

"You're right!" She gleefully nods.

"Okay, the dancing."

"Dancing? Henry, I mean, Dr. Morgan, you and I have never danced together."

"Yes, well, it was not allowed for us back then to dance more than two sets together on any evening or to touch each other intimately; including handshakes."

She blows a mock sigh of defeat through her mouth. "Okay, um, how many broken rules is that so far?"

He shakes his head and frowns.

She counts in her head. "Looks like we're totally fine as far as Rule Six but Rule Seven - the touching." She looks up at him sorrowfully. "We've totally blown it on that, wouldn't you say?" They both nod vigorously and laugh loudly.

Henry calms himself. "And, um, greetings."

"Greetings." She echoes more as a statement than a question.

"Yes. Whether coming into, or taking leave of, one another's presence, it was to be acknowledged with a slight bow of the gentleman's head or the woman's curtsy."

"I am NOT-" she indignantly announces.

"No, no, of course not, Jo-" He puts up a hand and laughs.

"I mean, you do that head bowing all the time and it's real _cute_ and everything, but I am NOT-"

"Jo, Jo," he laughs louder, "I don't expect you to curtsy to me." He brings his laughter under control. "I deemed it painful to watch even then. And if no one was watching," he leans in closer to whisper, "they didn't curtsy. Kind of bent their knees and bounced back up really quick."

"Well, yeah." She calms down and shifts her position on the cushiony seats. "But I'm not doing that, either, buddy."

"Jo. Calm down. No curtsying required. It's agreed."

She sighs and rests her head back onto his chest. "So since we've already blown so many of the rules, is the courtship off?"

He looks up thoughtfully, then peers down at her, then quickly back up as he blinks rapidly.

"Oh, you!" She leans back and playfully smacks him on the arm.

His face breaks out into that dazzling ear-to-ear smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and just spirals her into a fangirl swoon. She thanks whatever power responsible for having made and sent such an impossibly beautiful man, inside and out, to come into her life. _'And I don't have to hide the fact that I swoon anymore.'_ She leans in and plants a big sloppy one on him.

"Oh, my, Detective. It occurs to me that we may as well break all the rules of courtship." He kisses her again and his hand strays (accidentally? intentionally?) closer to previously forbidden areas just above her waistline and just below her neckline.

As she breathlessly enjoys and allows his slight indiscretion, he murmurs something in her ear.

"Of course, it was most unexpected and enjoyable to see these (he lightly grazes the aforementioned forbidden body parts) react in kind as the woman bounced up down quickly in the modified curtsy."

"Well, Dr. Morgan. Your 'Mr. Darcy' is blushing a mile a minute."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Some distance away, Reuben Barnes' aqua blue 2002 Ford Taurus exits the Holland Tunnel. He follows the directions given by the female voice of his GPS equipment and eventually arrives at a renovated home on Lucien. He parks, grabs his briefcase and the envelope that contains the mysterious patient's bloodwork information and runs up the short flight of stairs to the house. After a couple of unanswered rings of the doorbell, he steps back to notice that the house is completely dark. He turns to the street to catch any light to help view the time on his watch. Just a little past midnight.

 _'Where are you, my dear brother David? Getting sloshed in some bar with the money from me that you haven't yet earned? Or, worse yet, buying the attentions of some frilly frump to satisfy your ancient butt's wanton desires?'_ he sarcastically wonders to himself. He pulls out his cell phone and calls his brother's phone. No answer. Voicemail. In frustration, he abruptly ends the call. After a moment, he dials another number and runs a hand through his thick mane of shoulder-length, brilliantly white hair. His face is remarkably unlined for a man of his advanced years, thanks to a special mixture he'd derived using the healing properties of Ben Larson's remarkable blood.

He'd experimented on himself, not out of vanity, but out of necessity. Using himself as a human guinea pig was not an uncommon practice among scientists and inventors. The fact that the results were successful was gratifying, nonetheless. The fact that Ben Larson had fled his facility in anger, once he'd learned of the experiment and seen the results in a suddenly younger, more vibrant-looking Reuben Barnes, was less gratifying. Dismaying, to say the least. No matter, he vowed to himself. He had made considerable progress in his particular area of genetic research years before ever knowing about Larson. The serum derived from Larson's blood could prove to be groundbreaking in a search for a cure for progeria, and slow the aging process in all humans. Why had Larson not given him a chance to explain that his motives were not selfish?

He recalls how secretive the Morgan family seemed when they lived next door to him and his family while on Lucien. It hadn't taken long for him to realize that during the five years they'd lived next door, Mrs. Morgan added a little weight (midriff bulge, they called it) and a few wrinkles. Her husband, Henry, however, remained the same. Abe grew older along with his brother, David, and they both began to look more like younger brothers of Henry's only because time seemed to have bypassed him in the aging process. Even his own father, a vibrantly healthy man until his untimely death at age 49, showed the normal yearly wear as he'd aged. But not Dr. Henry Morgan. It had seemed that the more the people around him aged, the more reclusive and elusive the doctor became.

How eager he was to share with Dr. Morgan and those who might share a similar unaging condition that there was possibly a remedy that could possibly bring them out of hiding. The reverse serum derived from the blood and tissue of progeria sufferers just might allow a person who could not age to have the appearance of normal aging. He could only imagine what it was like for a person with the doctor's condition. To have what eluded most people, eternal youth, but never be able to enjoy what most people took for granted: the ability to live openly and enjoy their lives without fear of exposure or danger.

Research had uncovered an unsettling pattern regarding the doctor's long life in that he'd lived a rather nomadic life even after his wife, Abigail, and their son, Abe, had entered his life. He recalls that he's liked the doctor and they'd enjoyed several conversations regarding science and academia far above the comprehension of his own father. And, regardless of the growing secrecy that pervaded their household, there was more familial harmony in their household than in his own. Oh, if he could only get in touch with either of the Morgan men-

He sighs and looks at his rapidly beeping phone and grimaces at the "low battery" notification. That explains why the last call did not go through. Dejected, he climbs back into his car. A hotel, he thinks. Check into a hotel and start out fresh in the morning. "That's the ticket." he thinks out loud again. "Good night's sleep, then off to Bellevue in the morning." He starts to pull away from the curb after having programmed the GPS for the nearest unseedy hotel, then he remembers his recent conversation with Lt. Reece of the NYPD's 11th Precinct.

"Of course," he snaps his fingers, "that's it! He works there! I'll just drop by his office tomorrow morning before going to Bellevue. I'm sure he'll be very happy to learn that I may be able to help both him and his unfortunate friend with the locked-in syndrome. Yes, sir, he should be very happy."

Notes: Notes: Information on courtship rules and customs in the Regency Era 1811-1820, were obtained from the following website:


	10. Safety Net Ch 18

Summary: Adam gets an unexpected visit from a dangerously deluded Reuben Barnes. Henry gets an unexpected visit from a tired Ben Larson.

Notes: I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

Chapter Text

"What darkened your mood a little while ago during the cab ride here?" Jo manages between a small yawn. "I mean your reaction to what the cab driver said is understandable, but right before that, what were you thinking that wiped the smile off of your face like that?"

Henry hesitates, then decides that no matter how distressing his thoughts might sometimes be, some - but not all - can now be shared with her. A relationship built on lies and half-truths has the survival rate of a house of cards.

"A thought that had come to me...reminded me of...Adam." He sighs and shoves his hands down into his pockets as he slowly escorts her to the guest bedroom.

"Henry..."

"I know, I know, why must I constantly conjure up such gloomy thoughts." He grins, his tone a self-deprecating one.

She abruptly stops at the open doorway and turns around to face him, her expression serious as she momentarily studies his features. "What in the world can ever be done about him, Henry?" She reaches up and toys with the knot in his tie. "Wouldn't it be great if he could just -(she makes a whooshing sound) - disappear for good (he ducks his head and chuckles) and be out of our lives forever?" She frowns and childishly pouts.

He gently removes her hand from toying with his tie because, frankly, it's not helping him to maintain his composure. Their close proximity to each other in their unchaperoned state, causes some most ungentlemanly thoughts to dance through his head.

"I shouldn't have said anything, but...you're right." He looks down and then up at her _('with those puppy dog eyes,'_ she silently swoons).

"At some point I - _we_ \- will have to reassess the situation regarding his present condition." He brings her hand up, presses her fingers to his lips, and slightly bows his head. She grins widely and quickly bounces down, then up. They fall into each other's arms as their laughter fills the air.

After a couple more minutes they reluctantly part and bid each other goodnight. Jo closes the bedroom door and Henry retreats to his own. In the silence of their separate rooms, they both undress for bed and pause occasionally to recall the events of this most topsy turvy day. Sleep finally claims them both.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The 90's comedy show marathon on the rundown motel room's TV does little to lighten the mood of its lone occupant. He rises from the bed with the lumpy mattress and squeaky bedframe once again and paces up and down in the small area. He catches his haggard reflection in the wall mirror and ducks into the bathroom and splashes water on his face. As if that would help to wash away the dark circles under his eyes or the anger from his face. Or the mixed feelings of foolishness and betrayal. He stares into the vanity mirror and wonders once more, how he could _ever_ have trusted Reuben Barnes. As he recalls the news conference earlier in the week, he groans, shakes his head and flops back down onto the bed.

"Beautiful, Ben, just beautiful." He sarcastically grins to the ceiling. "Let yourself be used by the likes of that - that - " He swings his legs off the bed and onto the floor as he sits bolt upright again. He leans forward and buries his face in his hands, then jumps up and paces the small area again as he bitterly recalls what he now believes to be deceptive statements from Barnes and his staff. "We want to _help_ you, Mr. Larson, we _understand_ , Mr. Larson. Don't worry about a **thing** , Mr. Larson, all of our resources are at your disposal here at the (expletive deleted) Center for Scientific Discovery!"

A preview for an upcoming episode of a popular crime drama splashes across the TV screen. The dead body. The parade of suspects. The diligent crime-solvers and hardworking pathology team. Something about the advertisement draws his attention. Pathology. Hmmm...Medical Examiner.

"Barnes mentioned a Dr. Morgan several times." he recalls out loud. "Was practically obsessed with the guy. Said Morgan may have lived a whole lot longer than anybody else alive." Larson crosses his arms over his chest as he ponders his next move. He then lies back down and vows to himself, _'Whether this Dr. Morgan has a condition similar to mine or not, Barnes is bent upon contacting him and maybe using him - like he used me. So, I've got to get to you, Dr. Morgan, before Barnes does. I've got to warn you.'_

Much to his chagrin, Larson realizes that because he no longer enjoys the security and protection provided by Barnes and his staff at the Center, a certain aging billionaire determined to cheat death at all costs, may once again send his goons to sniff him out.

 _'Out of the frying pan into the fire.'_ he grimly chuckles to himself. But it slowly dawns on him that since Dr. Morgan is associated with the NYPD, maybe they can help each other. The knot in his stomach untightens enough for him to finally enjoy the comedy marathon. He raises the TV's volume with the remote and gladly engages in the comedic parade even if it doesn't exactly spark any laughter from him.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Abe had sent his father and their lovely houseguest off to work the next morning with a hearty breakfast. As they'd driven away from the shop in Jo's car, Henry had regaled her with some of the more colorful stories from his long lifespan. She'd especially enjoyed the ones from Abe's childhood. She'd snorted with laughter and nearly hit a pedestrian when Henry'd stated that his son was still a bit angry with him for not having allowed him to eat dirt.

Once they arrive at the precinct, they go off to their individual offices with warm smiles, warm hearts, and large cups of coffee in hand. However, neither are prepared for what will prove to be another topsy turvy day.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Reuben Barnes walks up to the Fourth floor Nurses' Station but finds no one behind the counter. He views this as a lucky break because he won't have to song-and-dance with anyone about his intentions. Also, he feels that his white lab coat, stethoscope, and clipboard allow him to blend in better with the rest of the medical staff even though this is his first visit to Bellevue. Out of nowhere, a passing nurse mutters a polite greeting, he grunts and nods in return. _'Best to get in and get out of here as quickly as possible.'_ he resolves.

Finally, he stands before Room 408. He steps gingerly into the room and tries to pull off his best Marcus Welby impression, given he had never been a practicing physician. Whatever bedside manner he should project was an unknown to him, hence the channeling of the 1970's TV icon's persona.

The first bed is neatly made and empty. Hopefully, the mystery patient he seeks is the sole occupant of this room. He nears the bed near the window but finds it empty, as well, the bedding rumpled.

 _'Most likely taken out for some tests.'_ he reassures himself. He then seats himself in the worn vinyl armchair next to the bed to wait. _'I must see who this person could be. Let him know that there's hope for him, that I want only to help him break the chains of this unfortunate physical bondage. And maybe more.'_

The rumble of a wheeled gurney breaks into Barnes' thoughts as a male nurse brings a patient back into the room.

"Heyyy, looks like you got a visitor." Vic, the male nurse, cheerily reports to the patient.

 _'Male caucasian, about 35, listed as John Doe.'_ Barnes recites to himself as he steps away from the bed to allow the nurse enough space to return the immobile patient to his bed. Barnes never takes his eyes off of the unblinking, brown-haired man of slight build, which causes him to miss seeing the look of recognition that flashes over Vic's face.

"He's all yours, Doctor." Vic smiles and steps past Barnes. Once outside the room, he turns and softly creeps back in and hovers behind the curtain that separates Adam's bed from the first bed. He listens intently and awaits the moment he can confront Barnes.

Barnes reviews Adam's chart then checks the IV and other equipment that maintain his functional existence. He bends down close to Adam and speaks just above a whisper. "Hello. Don't be alarmed. My name is Dr. Reuben Barnes. I'm a geneticist. Your friend, Dr. Henry Morgan, is, well," he stumbles over his words. "I knew him and his family years ago. A good man. It's, uh, great that you have such a friend looking out for you." Barnes looks around the edge of the curtain to the door to ensure their continued privacy.

Vic ducks down as if to tie his shoe, just in case he'd need to explain his presence there.

Barnes resumes his conversation with Adam. "As I said, I am a geneticist and have conducted several experiments with positive results regarding, regarding..." he realizes he's rambling. "Look, I can help you (he waves his hand over Adam's body) out of this. It's obvious that you can't consent to my offer of assistance, and I'm quite sure no one at this hospital would allow me to intervene in your care, but...I promise you. I'll find a way to get you out of here and back on your feet." He smiles and swears that he sees a reaction, however miniscule, in Adam's eyes.

He raises up and pats Adam's arm. "I'll be back once I figure out a plan to get you out of here, I promise." Barnes gathers up his clipboard and makes a few notes to himself on it.

"And I will be very interested to find out your true name. They have you listed as John Doe." He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. "We'll remedy that very soon, as well. So. Until then." He quickly walks out of the room and heads for the elevators, eager to make Lt. Reece's office at the NYPD's 11th Precinct, his next stop. He's sure he can enlist her aid in re-introducing himself to the good Dr. Morgan. Buoyed by his prospects as he busily entertains his thoughts, he is again unaware of Vic, who hovers near him as he waits for the elevator.

The elevator doors open and a handful of people get on. Barnes attempts to get on, too, but a hand blocks him.

"Too crowded." Vic states matter-of-factly.

"I _beg_ your pardon- "

Vic turns to Barnes once the elevator doors close. "You need help with the John Doe in Room 408, right?"

Barnes eyes the man indignantly.

"You're Dr. Reuben Barnes, right?"

"Well...yes...yes, I am. But I don't understand this-"

"Saw you and that other guy with the special blood on the news earlier this week." He looks around, then whispers to Barnes. "You got the guy's labwork that I sent to ya, right?" Barnes nods.

"You took a big risk doing something like that. Invasion of a patient's private records. You could be fired. Prosecuted, even."

"No different from what you're doing, sneaking in here, looking like a doctor, looking like you belong here."

Barnes glares at him.

"Good. We understand each other. That's why _you_ (Vic points to Barnes' chest) are never gonna tell anyone where you got your information from."

Barnes lets out a sigh of frustration and lowers his eyes. "How much?"

Vic, satisfied that he's got Barnes over a barrel, flippantly asks, "Oh, I don't know. How much does a Porsche cost?"

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Henry is busy at his desk with paperwork when he hears a knock at his door. He looks up to see Lucas with a look of breathless anticipation on his face. He wonders what has gotten his young assistant all stirred up as he motions him inside.

Lucas cautiously walks up to Henry's desk and motions behind him. "Uh, someone's here to see you." He bends forward. "It's Ben. Lar-son." He slowly pronounces each syllable.

Henry squints at the man whose flimsy disguise of bleached blond hair, fake mustache and dark glasses does little to hide his true identity.

"Yes, Lucas, it's fine. He can come in."

Lucas hesitates. "Should I go get somebody, tell somebody?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Lucas." He smiles at Lucas and dips his head in the visitor's direction.

Lucas informs the man that he can enter Henry's office.

Larson enters, closes the door, and the blinds.

"Sorry for the cloak and dagger, Dr. Morgan." he says as he sits in one of the small chairs in front of the desk.

"You know my name." It's more of a statement than a query.

"Yes." He pulls off the glasses and pats the mustache. "Mind if I keep this on? Too hard to get back on once it peels off."

"Not at all, Mr. Larson."

"And...you know _my_ name?" Larson grins. Henry half smiles and raises his eyebrows. Larson gathers his thoughts. "Look, Dr. Morgan, that news conference a few days ago..." his voice quietens as he lowers his eyes and struggles with his words. "That news conference was legit." He looks up quickly to gauge Henry's reaction. When there's no response, he continues.

"At least, as far as I'm concerned. My blood is legit. There are antibodies in my blood for diseases I have never even _had_. In fact, I never had the normal childhood diseases like chicken pox, measles, none of that. But the antibodies are still in my blood." Larson leans back and ruffles a hand through his faux blond thatch in frustration. "How is that possible, Doctor?" He suddenly jumps up from the chair and paces towards the door then back.

Henry eyes him, undecided as to his credibility. He inhales deeply and guardedly replies. "Well, there are two different ways for that to have happened."

Larson rolls his eyes and sighs. "Either through normal contraction of the disease or via innoculation. I already know. That shyster, Barnes, told me." He drops back into the chair and locks eyes with Henry. "Doctor, I have never been sick a day in my _life_! Barnes got my records from the hospital I was born in and from the orphanage I was raised in until the age of 17, when I enlisted in the Marines." He continues sarcastically, "Jump in anytime."

"Why do you feel the need to share any of this with me?" Henry can't help but feel a tinge of guilt for his skepticism regarding Larson's claims. What if he's telling the truth? Then this has to be so outside of his comfort zone to share this fantastical information about himself with a total stranger. Henry reiterates his initial conclusion, that the young man is either deranged or very brave. But he's curious to find out why Larson has chosen to share his "secret" with him. A troubling truth turns over and over in his mind: Reuben Barnes' obvious obsession with him must have influenced Larson to seek him out. Still, he doesn't want to give anything away about himself to Larson if he can help it. Just in case.

"Barnes used my blood to make a serum that slows the aging process. He used it on himself and he looks - (he huffs indignantly)- different. Hair's thicker, longer. Wrinkles practically vanished. He looks like he dropped at least 15 years of weight and age from his body in a matter of hours."

"I see." Henry cautiously asks, "And you're sure that the serum was actually derived from your blood?"

"Yes!" Larson shouts, startling the M.E.

Lucas quietly opens the door a bit and looks in. "Everything OK in here?" His eyes round with curiosity.

"Yes, Lucas, everything's fine."

"Well, I'll be right here. Right outside. If you need me, boss."

Henry smiles. "Fine, Lucas. Thank you." Lucas closes the door back but hovers on the outside and debates whether or not to call one of the detectives or the lieutenant.

Larson rubs his hands over his face as he works to rein in his emotions. "Sorry, Dr. Morgan. It's just that...I really thought Barnes could be trusted not to..."

"Not to use any discoveries for personal gain." Henry finishes for him.

Larson nods, furrows his brow, and tilts his head to the side as he looks pointedly at the man who would be his fellow immortal. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I'm...sorry...?" Henry's not quite sure what he's asking.

"You don't believe what I've just told you about my blood, about Barnes, about me never having been sick a day in my life."

"Mr. Larson-" Henry begins.

"In school I played different sports. I've been in motorcycle and car accidents, been shot, stabbed, even poisoned. Heck, I was even in that subway crash last year that killed everyone on board." He scoffs.

Henry's breath hitches, his heart almost stops. He searches his memories for that day he'd died on that subway car. He'd been so enthralled with the blond cello player he'd almost had a date with and his own eventual death...was it possible? He sits forward as Larson's voice penetrates his thoughts again. "You were on the car that all those people died on?"

"No, I was in the subway car it crashed into. I was pretty banged up. Broken bones, lacerated liver, punctured lung. By the time help came, all my wounds had healed. No one was ever the wiser and, hopefully, nothing was caught on tape."

Henry's eyes dart back and forth as he considers everything Larson has shared with him. It would be nice to have a comrade in longevity other than Adam. But Larson has yet to back up his claim with any sort of proof.

As if he's read Henry's thoughts, Larson stands up and plucks the letter opener from Henry's pencil cup. "But I almost wish there were a video tape to prove to you that I'm telling the truth." He studies the sharp utensil as he twirls it in his fingers. "That would mean I wouldn't have to do this."

Henry jumps out of his chair, alarmed. "What are you doing, Larson?"

"Showing you the hard way what my condition involves."

"Now...Larson...you don't have to do this. Just put that down." he desperately urges him and almost finds himself yelling out that he believes him so he'll not harm himself. The same way Nora had done when he'd threatened to show _her_ what his own condition involved.

"Just watch." Larson slices through his neck, severing an artery. He grimaces in pain and drops to his knees as Henry runs to his side. Larson moans as Henry grabs two large wads of kleenex and presses them against the wound. He's horrified at the ghastly wound that he'd seen many times as a war time doctor, but is also vaguely aware that there should be much more blood.

"Lucas!" Henry calls over his shoulder. "Lucas!"

"Coming!" Lucas bursts into the office.

"Hand me some antiseptic and bandages from the first aid kit, please. Hurry." Henry worries that if he releases the pressure, Larson will begin to lose more blood. But before Lucas hands him the requested items, Larson gently tugs himself loose from Henry's grasp. Larson flexes and rubs his neck and tilts his head away from Henry in order to reveal a rapidly vanishing scar. The initial blood loss is minimal and the two wads of kleenex are only sparingly stained.

Henry stares incredulously at Larson. "May I?" Larson nods and allows him to physically push and prod at the now non-existant wound. "That's astonishing." A genuine smile quirks at the corners of his mouth. "Utterly and completely astonishing."

Larson rises to a standing position. "I know. Happens every time I get injured. Come close to death several times but not sure if I can actually die." He looks at Henry.

Henry retakes his seat and studies Larson through new eyes. "Might I ask...how old you are? When were you born?"

Larson sighs. "1929. The year of the stock market crash." His eyes reflect a deep, sad tiredness all too familiar to the M.E. "I know that I look to be in my early 30's but in truth - I'm 87 years old." He's suddenly aware of Lucas' presence.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me telling anybody anything about you or, or anything, I mean, Dr. Morgan'll vouch for me, I can be trusted. Right, boss?"

Larson shushes him. "Calm down, kid. I'm almost starting not to care who knows anymore, you know?" He casts tired eyes once again at Henry and sighs. "I'm tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of being alone in this - this - probably unending circle of life."

Lucas eyes Henry sympathetically and Henry smiles in gratitude.

"So, Dr. Henry Morgan," Larson begins, "what's your story?"


	11. Safety Net Ch 19

Summary: Summary: A revelation of sorts. A violent encounter at Bellevue Hospital leads to Adam's disappearance in more ways than one. Is Abe now in danger and can Team Morgan get to him in time?

Notes: I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Let's just say that my brand of -" Henry searches for the right words.

"Immortality, Dr. Morgan?" Larson offers.

"Yes." Henry nods. His eyes slide slowly from side to side, another quirky mannerism that manifests itself when he's traversing new ground and uncertain about how far he's willing to travel. "My story...is a long one." Lucas clears his throat and ducks down into the extra chair when met with Henry's pointed stare.

"And, please...call me Henry." He flashes a dazzling grin and extends his hand to Larson.

"Ben. Call me Ben." The two men shake hands, settle back in their chairs and study each other with the quiet acceptance of welcoming a comrade into the fold.

Lucas, feels the vibe of brotherhood that radiates between the two men but also his own pangs of jealousy. After all, he saw Henry first. They're buddies and, although this Ben guy seems okay...he just got here! The young assistant M.E., watches the two men silently bond and he clears his throat again, this time much louder.

"Oh! Ben, this is my assistant, Lucas Wahl." Ben and Lucas exchange pleasantries. Lucas' need for recognition does not go unnoticed by Henry as he smilingly adds, "He's also a good friend." His smile broadens as he sees how Lucas beams at his admission.

Henry provides a Readers Digest condensed version of his long story to Ben with a promise to elaborate on certain points at a later date. For now, and with Ben's permission, they must alert Lt. Reece and Detectives Martinez and Hanson of the possible threat Barnes may present with regards to his obsession with Henry. Reece calls for an impromptu meeting of the group in her office, along with their newest member, Ben.

Henry decides to let Abe in on the new developments after work. Right now, he sees no need to worry his son.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Bellevue Hospital, fourth floor, one hour ago...

Amy Mitchell takes her place behind the counter of the nurses' station and automatically starts tidying up the desk area. Since the loss of her latest roommate to marriage, the only way for her to keep up the rent on her modest apartment is to work as much overtime and as many double shifts as her body can stand.

 _'Vic is such a pig.'_ she angrily thinks to herself as she brushes crumbs and junk food wrappers into the waste basket. The two empty plastic water bottles and soft drink can are thrown into the recycle bin. The tall, leggy, young woman wonders why she lets Vic and his antics get to her. It's not like they're in love or anything. They'd only dated a few times in the recent past. He can be so charming, she admits. That's how he'd been able to convince her to go out on a date with him in the first place. But his true nature eventually showed through and he soon became just another great-looking guy with a lousy personality she used to date. Failed relationships all too familiar to her. She wonders for the umpteenth time since the age of 15, when her prince was going to come along. Why can't she meet a nice guy? Someone like that Dr. Morgan who visits Veggie Guy? He's smart, she's smart. He's got a good job, so does she. He's a little older, she concedes, but not _that_ much older for it to be a real problem. And he's hot! She sighs as she concedes again that _his_ hotness majorly outweighs _hers_. And maybe that's the reason he'd never given her a second look. Probably because I'm too tall, she glumly concludes.

Or maybe, she muses, like that tall, cute guy she met at ComicCon last month. He seemed nice. Kinda shy, but had a nice smile and knows a lot about 50's sci-fi movies like, "Teenagers from Outer Space", and "The Tingler". What was his name? Luke...or...Lucas something. She kicks herself for having lost his phone number. But she recalls that he works at the city morgue. Eww. Cuts up dead bodies for a living. But...who knows, she asks herself.

 _'Aw, I'm probably too tall for even him. But I can wear flats. I can definitely do flats.'_ she sighs despondently. _'Guys don't like to date tall chicks unless they're tall, too. Like that dumbo Vic'._

The door to the break room opens and (dumbo) Vic trails a doctor with a long mane of brilliantly white hair. There's a quiet storm on his face whereas Vic's is lit up like a Christmas tree. He walks behind the nurses' station and cheerfully salutes the doctor goodbye as the elevator doors close on him.

"Why are _you_ so happy this morning?" she spits out. "And what doctor was that? I've never seen him before."

"Why are _you_ so grumpy this morning?" He doesn't wait for her reply. "He's a doctor. That's all you need to know." his expression suddenly serious.

Her mouth hangs opens for a second or two before she finally finds her voice. "He looks like that doctor who was in that news conference a few days ago." She looks up at Vic who remains silent. "People are supposed to find immortals for him so he can...what...?" She searches her memory. "Oh, yeah, so he can help them." she smirks and looks back up at Vic who's still silent.

"You - notified him about (Vic holds up a hand to quiet her) the Veggie Guy with the strange things in his blood?" She quickly stands up and hurls more accusations and questions at him. He proceeds to drag her into the break room and angrily demands her silence. Even as tall as she is, he manages to left her off of her feet with one strong arm around her torso. The other hand covers both her nose and mouth as he backs into the break room and roughly heaves her onto the cheap, metal frame futon located next to the vending machines. A sickening crack of bone on metal is heard and she slumps silently on the futon. Her arms and legs awkwardly splay apart, her glazed eyes stare at the ceiling.

Vic stands frozen, shocked at his own ferocity towards her. He anxiously creeps closer. "Amy?" he hoarsely whispers. "Amy?" his voice now louder. He reaches out and touches her neck but barely detects a pulse. He pulls his hand back in revulsion. She's dead, he tells himself, horrified. Or she soon will be. It's my fault. His heart pounds in his chest as he shoots to his feet. _'Have to think. What to do?'_ His erratic thoughts settle on self preservation as he pushes all guilt aside.

During his year-long stint on the fourth floor, he'd always complained about how deserted the place was, given that Bellevue was one of the busiest hospitals in the city, probably the entire country. Today, however, especially now, he's thankful for the scarcity of co-workers and visitors. He pulls a laundry cart into the break room and wraps Amy's limp body into a soiled sheet and gently places it inside the cart. He pushes the cart into a utility closet and closes the door. He gathers his personal belongings from behind the nurses' station. No need to stay here any longer, he tells himself. No turning back now. Time to execute the plan. Any guilt regarding Amy's injury is replaced by his insatiable desire for money. It used to be money, fame, and power. But how quickly the need for anonymity has whittled his immediate desires down to only money. Enough from Barnes so he can flee to another country that has no extradition treaty with his home country, the United States.

He calls Barnes on his cell phone as he rushes towards Room 408.

"Yeah. It's me." he tells Barnes. "Be ready. I'm bringing the John Doe down to you now." He ends the call and quickly makes his way to Adam's bed.

He wraps Adam up in his bed covers and lifts him onto one of the hospital's newly-acquired guerneys, designed by NASA for firefighters and disaster victims, fitted out with portable life support equipment. Once he ensures that all the proper hookups are made, he wheels the guerney out of the hospital via the service elevator, down to the parking garage and into a waiting van with a very nervous Reuben Barnes at the helm. Vic climbs into the back of the van with Adam while Barnes pilots the van out of the parking garage and onto the city streets.

By the time Henry and the others gather in Lt. Reece's office, Barnes, his co-hort, Vic, and their mysterious passenger, merge onto I80 towards the research center in Ithaca.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Adam's POV

"Well, well, well. The geneticist from the news conference pays me a visit. Feels sorry for me. Claims he can help me to get back on my feet, ha ha. Ohhh, if he only knew, he'd run for the hills from me."

Adam cares only that Barnes just might be able to release him from this locked-in condition that the cursed little ingrate, Henry Morgan, had doomed him to. At first he couldn't believe the visitor was even real. A figment of his imagination resulting from the final fracturing of his mind?

There were days when he'd felt completely mad as he'd struggled futilely and screamed silently for what seemed like hours against his physical prison. Most of the time he'd wallowed in despair at the waste of his life, missed opportunities, lost loves and family members from so long ago he no longer remembered their faces...or voices. How long had it been since he'd exchanged a caring human touch with a woman? With anyone? Too long ago for him to say with any certainty. Certainly not since his imprisonment in Auschwitz when he'd managed to smuggle meager amounts of fruit, milk and medicine to newly weds for their infant son.

After the couple's demise, he and several other inmates did what they could to shield the baby boy from the Nazis. It was miraculous that the infant had survived at all. It was as if he was supernaturally protected from the cruel eyes and intentions of their jailers. Hmphf. Their tormentors and executioners. He'd certainly suffered enough of that at the hands of the demented Dr. Josef Mengele.

As time went by, the number of watchers, as he'd called them, dwindled to just one since he'd resurfaced in the exact same spot in a nearby river each time. They'd grown lax and rotated the men in shifts until only one watcher was present when he'd resurfaced the last few times. The very last time he'd died at Mengele's hands, he'd finally managed to catch the lone watcher off guard, snap his neck, and escape to freedom in his jeep, wearing his uniform and bearing his weapon. Over the next several decades he'd pondered the fate of the baby boy back at the camp. That is, until he'd met fellow immortal, Henry Morgan.

How ironic that Henry's dead wife, Abigail, had found the child, then Henry, and they had become a happy family for many years. He wonders how different all their lives might have been if _he'd_ been allowed to raise Abraham as _his_ son. But no, Henry, with his dapper good looks and winning ways had unknowingly managed to undercut him at happiness and had later rebuffed his awkward overtures of friendship. Even after he'd apologized...somewhat...and provided Abraham with the priceless gift of the identity of his parents. Even then. So be it.

'Once I am free, Henry, you shall suffer the grave consequences of your actions. The same as many, many others who had dared cross me.'

He can only assume that Barnes is spiriting him to a certain research facility in Ithaca, NY. Maybe he won't kill himself right off in order to escape. Barnes' research just might be worthy of his interest.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Lt. Reece waits for her two detectives, the two medical examiners and the unexpected guest to seat themselves. She listens intently as Henry shares with them the details of his earlier conversation with Ben, who then demonstrates his "brand" of immortality to them. Finally, he shares his suspicions regarding Reuben Barnes' research and possible ulterior motives.

The three law enforcement officers digest the information the same as they had when Henry's condition was revealed to them. Another piece of the fabric of their reality was being stretched beyond comprehension to incorporate yet another facet of a new, foreign reality that contained more than one type of immortal. And a possible mad scientist who moved effortlessly between both. Something they each knew they must aspire to in order to maintain their sanity.

Lucas is the only one in the room who's happy as a lark. All of this is just totally way more cool than anything found in his graphic novels. He could read those stories anytime. But this? He's living this! This is real and actually happening on his watch. Of course, he knows none of this information can leave this room, but this is ground zero for possibly the coolest adventure of his lifetime. He felt emboldened. Purposed. Ready for action. Like they were the Squadron for Justice or, or Team Reece or Team Morgan. He laughs to himself at his own enthusiasm. If only that cute tall blond he'd met at ComicCon last month could see him now. Then she'd call me. Yeah.

He watches how Jo and Henry interact with each other. How comfortable and more open they have become with their relationship. He glances over at Hanson whose wife, Karen, is said to be very pretty and very nice. Nice. Nice to have a family and have someone to share things with. He didn't know about Ben but he knew the Lieutenant had a husband and two daughters in college. Nice. Even Abe in his 70's had an ex-wife and a new lady friend in his life. He tries his best to shake off his melancholy and focus on the matter at hand: Reuben Barnes, possible kook. Must be found and reined in.

Jo's cell phone rings and she reads the caller ID, Abe's Antiques. She answers it and almost immediately hands the phone to Henry who jumps to his feet and nearly out of his skin, which startles them all.

"No, Abraham...Stay there...There's no need-" He snatches the phone from his ear and hands it back to Jo. "We have to leave." He worriedly announces.

"Leave and go where?" Jo asks.

"Bellevue Hospital called the shop when they couldn't reach me at my office."

"Adam." Hanson says plainly.

Henry nods. "He's missing."

They all jump up at the news, including Ben, even though he's not quite sure why. He turns to Lucas and asks, "Who's Adam? And why the sudden panic?"

Lucas pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll fill you in."

As they all race out of the building and pile into cars, Henry fills them in on other details such as a male nurse named Vic who'd attacked another nurse named Amy Mitchell. According to her, she had seen a doctor matching Reuben Barnes' description with Vic shortly before the attack. She'd also reported that Vic had illegally provided Barnes with an analysis of the strange blood of the John Doe patient in Room 408. A security guard in the hospital's parking garage confirmed that Barnes drove into the parking structure in a Ford Taurus but drove out in a white van. Lastly, he informs them that Abe stubbornly refused to stay home, out of harm's way, and was on his way to confront Reuben Barnes at the research facility in Ithaca.

Henry worriedly tells Jo that Abe has at least a 20-minute head start on them. She reaches over and squeezes his hand. "He feels since he was a childhood friend of Reuben's that he can talk some sense into him and also since Adam promised to never harm him, he's got an _in_ with him that I don't have." Jo feels his frustration.

"I swear to you, Jo, that boy's going to drive me to drink again!"

Jo shakes her head at her impossible man, the worried father. "How did he find out that Barnes took Adam?"

"A very talkative nurse who happens to be in his bowling league called and told him everything."

After only an hour, they suddenly run into heavy traffic. Jo manages to barrel on through the congestion as the cars move aside best they can in response to her car's flashing lights and the occasional "woop" of the siren.

They soon approach the crash scene of a white van that had come to rest upside down in a small pond on the side of the freeway. Despite it's mangled condition, the license plate is clearly visible and matches the plate of a van registered to one Victor Caswell. Henry and Jo approach a member of the response team who tells them two males were pulled from the vehicle by other motorists, but the male nurse, Victor Caswell, had expired soon thereafter. The other, identified as Reuben Barnes, was being treated for minor wounds by paramedics. Jo thanks the team member and both she and Henry approach Barnes to question him, but Hanson and Reece are already there.

Barnes recognizes Henry as he approaches and all else fades away. "Dr. Henry Morgan."

"Reuben." Henry nods.

"It's been a long time, Dr. Morgan." Barnes scoffs as he eyes him up and down. "You haven't changed a bit."

Henry ignores the last statement. "Where is the patient you and Victor Caswell stole from Bellevue?" his tone hard and accusing.

"He's...gone...just disappeared. Right in front of my eyes."

Panicked, Henry demands, "What do you mean, he disappeared?"

"Darndest thing." Barnes recounts. "He, he flatlined and then he was...gone...in a weird flash of light...gone." He suddenly becomes very animated and looks from one to the other. "Don't you understand?! The man died and then he just vanished into thin. air!"

The group nervously ponder the consequences of Adam once again on the loose. Unchecked, unbridled, and bent upon revenge against Henry, regardless of any ensuing collateral damage.

Jo's cell phone rings and the caller ID reads Abe Morgan. She answers the call and hands the phone to Henry.

"Abraham, where are you?" Henry barks into the phone.

"On my way back home."

Henry almost deflates in a sigh of relief. "Abraham...I was so worried-"

"Dad." Abe interrupts. "I'm with Adam."

Notes: I don't know anything about New York and its highways and byways, nor anything about Bellevue Hospital. So please excuse me if some of the details regarding such are less than factual. This is a fable, after all. Hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. Poor Henry. I think I'd poop my pants if my only child told me that they were alone with a psychopatic killer. Yikes!


	12. Safety Net Ch 20

_Jo's cell phone rings and the caller ID reads: Abe Morgan. She answers the call and hands the phone to Henry._

 _"Abraham, where are you?" Henry barks into the phone._

 _"On my way back home."_

 _Henry almost deflates in a sigh of relief. "Abraham...I was so worried-"_

 _"Dad." Abe interrupts. "I'm with Adam."_

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Abe ends the call and shoves the phone into the change compartment under the dashboard. "Satisfied?" he roughly asks Adam.

"You sound upset, Abraham." Adam coldly observes as he watches the passing scenery.

"You **bet** , I'm upset!" Abe spits at him. "I don't understand why you wanted me to lie and make them believe I was...on my way..." His brow furrows as realization hits him. He angrily glances over at his unwelcome passenger and nods his head up and down. "To throw them off. Give you time to pull off another of your cockamamie schemes." he scoffs and glares at Adam.

"You forget, Abraham," Adam calmly reminds him but in an icier tone, "I promised your dear father that I would never harm a hair on you." He slowly turns his dark, emotionless eyes to Abe and hisses, "But that was before he **did** what he _**did**_ to me."

"So, what? You're gonna kill me? Is that it? That's your biggg plannn?" He's aware that he's dangerously close to the edge in drawing Adam's ire, but he hopes that the newest members of his father's net of friends are tracking his whereabouts via his phone's GPS or his car's GPS equipment. He's managed to drop under the speed limit, unnoticed by Adam - he hopes. It would give them time to catch up to him and his creepy passenger.

"WHAT I need for you to do right now is just DRIVE!" Adam snarls the words out and sends a chill down Abe's spine.

Abe glances at his cell phone and quickly back at the roadway ahead of him. _'I see why Mom drove your evil butt off the road back in '85.'_ He sadly recalls also that she took her own life shortly after the crash in order to prevent Adam from finding Henry or him. But he has no plans to emulate her actions anytime soon.

"Okay. Calm down. Just...lemme ask you something." Adam doesn't reply, but he continues anyway. "Why do you hate him so much?" He glances at Adam. "I mean before he sent you to zombieland?" Abe notices Adam's jaw, rigid with anger. "I mean is it because he found a way to have a little happiness in this world despite his condition?"

"I would advise you to tread lightly, Abraham." Adam quietly hisses.

 _'Like a snake.' Abe silently observes_.

"Oh, c'mon, you can tell me. We were at Auschwitz together. We both survived. There's no one else around to hear." Abe wonders to himself why he's pushing this maniac but he still continues. "Is it because he's taller than you? Better looking? Smarter? He is a highly educated medical professional and gifted crime solver. I mean, the way I understand it, women wanna be with him, guys wanna be him." Abe laughs and thinks to himself that he's losing his own mind and Adam's gonna plug him any second with that gun he recovered from the crashed van.

Adam remains quiet and calm as he eyes Abraham and adjusts his grip on the weapon. He recalls how advantageous it was that he'd died and rebirthed only moments before the crash near 20 feet of water, after the portable life support equipment on his high-tech gurney had failed.

 _40 minutes earlier..._

 _The white van registered to Victor Caswell, but driven erratically by a very nervous Reuben Barnes, gradually merged onto I80, headed toward the Center for Scientific Discovery research facility in Ithaca, NY. The geneticist's grip on the steering wheel slipped occasionally because of his sweaty palms. He had mixed emotions about the present journey he was on. For one, he was now an accomplice to kidnapping. His original plan to convince both Lt. Reece and Dr. Morgan that his new serum just might be the mysterious patient's only hope for recovery, had been unfortunately altered when forced to include Vic, whom he viewed as nothing more than a heartless opportunist who cared nothing about advancing medical science for the greater good . Barnes was still convinced, however, that he would be redeemed once the John Doe's current malady was cured, and he would be hailed a hero, a pioneer, a true man of vision. A strange fast-paced beeping had disturbed his daydream of grandeur._

 _'What's that sound?' He asked urgently. The van lurched a bit as he watched Vic's reflection in the rear view mirror._

 _'Some of the equipment's malfunctioning. Watch your driving, Barnes!' Vic cursed loudly and placed the gun he'd been teasing Adam with (Amy Mitchell's gun) in a side compartment on the gurney. He bent over from his seat and peered at the readouts on the specially-designed equipment by NASA engineers. 'Not special enough.' Vic fumed under his breath. He frantically readjusted the controls on the equipment as Adam's body went into shock._

 _'I thought you said this equipment was state of the art!' Barnes shouted to make himself heard above the failing equipment's whirrings and beeps. 'You told me that you knew how to operate all of it!'_

 _'Will ya just shut up and drive? You're gonna make us crash! And what good will that do ya?' Vic shouted back as he began CPR on Adam. 'C'mon, breathe, you son of a witch!' he muttered angrily. 'Breathe!' The singular, high-pitched tone that the patient had flatlined, replaced the various whirrings and beeps._

 _The life-or-death activities in the rear of the van drew Barnes' attention away from his driving. He watched in the rear view mirror in dismay as Vic continued CPR on Adam. Vic yelled at him again to pay attention to the road but then Adam's body vanished in a sudden flash of white light that temporarily blinded them both in the confined space._

 _Barnes instinctively slammed on the brakes causing the van to dramatically fishtail and then spin around. The van eventually lost a battle with a big rig which caused the van to overturn several times, slide off the roadway and land upside down in a shallow waterway. The geneticist was stunned but aware that he was wrong side up in a van that was slowly filling with water. His aversion to the use of seatbelts probably helped him avoid drowning since many times they don't work after a collision; especially under water. He was able to free himself from the van's confines with the help of a few strangers. Vic, he'd seen, had not survived and he was keenly aware that he'd survived mainly because of the rapidly healing properties of the serum he'd derived from Ben Larson's blood. The same serum he'd pumped into his own body. And the mysterious patient? That was the 64 thousand dollar question. Where was he? What in the name of Heaven and earth, had happened to him?'_

 _vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv_

 _Adam gasped and gulped air into his lungs as he bobbed up in the water. It was just deep enough to allow him to rebirth in it, but yet so shallow that he cleared the surface all the way up to his knees before splattering back down into the thick marsh where he hid, shivering. He had come back just in time to see the van as it slid off the roadway and came to rest upside down in the water. He managed to slosh his way to the van, recovered the weapon he'd observed the now deceased Vic playing with just before the crash, and wrapped himself and the gun in a wet blanket from his gurney before it sank further into the shallow waters. Other motorists had gladly helped him from the water. They'd even cheered when they saw he was uninjured. He'd played along with being the rescued victim._

 _He'd then spotted Abe, and made his way over to him. What a strange stroke of luck, he'd thought. He realized that he wouldn't have to commandeer a stranger's vehicle. Henry's precious son was there - why not take advantage of it?_

 _Abe had not seemed all that surprised to see him because, after all, he knew that Adam shared his father's condition._

 _'Fancy meeting you here, Abraham.' Adam had greeted him with the barest of smiles although genuinely surprised himself._

 _Abe had eyed him warily, then looked over at the van as good samaritans helped Barnes out of the water. He looked back at Adam who shivered and clutched the wet blanket around him. Abe said nothing but motioned for him to follow him to his car. Adam had obliged him and displayed genuine gratitude for the dry clothes and shoes Abe handed him. In that brief moment, Abe thought, Adam had looked like a regular human being. As he dressed, Abe turned away to give him a bit of privacy._

 _'A nurse who works at Bellevue called and told me that Barnes and a male nurse named Vic, stole you out of your hospital bed.'_

 _'Quite right.' He finished dressing. 'You can turn around now. I'm decent.'_

 _That's debatable, Abe thought as he turned around to face the troublesome immortal. 'What had they planned to do with you? Use you as a guinea pig?'_

 _Adam ignored his questions. 'I'm curious. Just how is it you happened to be here just at this moment?'_

 _'I was on my way to see Barnes at that center of his in Ithaca. This white van cut me off so I followed it to give the driver a one-fingered salute but when I pulled up close enough - it was the man of the hour himself, Barnes. So I dropped behind and followed...until the crash. Then I pulled over to the side of the road because I knew you were in the back of the van and, uh, well, that flash of light right before the crash told me that you had, uh, blinked out.'_

 _'What a creative way to describe my - departure. And how ingenious and adventurous of you, Abraham. You truly are your father's son, I see.'_

 _They both watched the response team pull Vic Caswell's lifeless body from the water. Abe then offered to take Adam back to Bellevue but he'd declined._

 _'Okay, you don't want to go back to Bellevue, that's fine. But I think it would be a good idea for us to discuss some things.' Abe said._

 _'And I assume you're referring to the situation between your father and me.'_

 _'Yeah. Don't you think by now it's time to bury the hatchet?'_

 _'And we merely shake hands and go our separate ways, is that it?' He raised his eyebrows and moved his head from side to side as he spoke._

 _'Like a snake.' Abe thought again. The man simply repulsed him. He wished with all his might that he could wave a wand or weave a magic spell to rid them of him. Permanently. Not since he had returned from Vietnam at age 21, had he wished so hard for the impossible._

 _He and Henry had reluctantly agreed that from that moment on, he would only address Henry as "Pops" or "Dad" in private. Because of Henry's strange condition that forever made him appear 35, he no longer looked believable as the father of a 21-year-old young man. It was yet another painful twist in their odd relationship that they'd both had to adapt to. Abe recalled the heartbreak in his father's eyes as he spoke words that were as poison to their souls. He'd lain awake and cried most of the night, all the while wishing with all his might for his father to have peace. For his strange condition to merely vanish. But no amount of wishing had ever worked. And, sadly, it wasn't going to work now, he realized._

 _'That would be great.' he told Adam. 'I mean you must want to get back to your own life, right? Ya gotta admit that these petty mind games have gotten you both nowhere fast.' Adam grunted, only mildly amused at the younger man's seemingly careless use of the English language. Abe opened the front passenger side of his car and waited. After a few moments, Adam slid into the seat and Abe closed the door._

 _More stubborn than Dad, Abe grumpily observed as he walked around and climbed into the driver's seat. Ten times as stubborn._

 _'Where to?' he asked Adam._

 _Adam uncovered the gun and pointed it at him. 'Ithaca.'_

 _Abe rolled his eyes, shook his head and silently bemoaned his own gullibility. He put the car in gear and managed to rejoin the northern flow of traffic. He grunted at Adam, 'You. With a gun. Why am I not surprised?'_

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

All the color drains from Henry's panic-stricken face, his eyes dart rapidly back and forth as he processes his son's words. He struggles to think clearly on what he should do next.

Jo places her hand on his arm. "What is it, Henry? Is Abe okay?" She'd never seen him this way before. It alarms her and she dreads his answer.

"Adam's got Abe, Jo." He hands the phone back to her. "That psychopath has my son!" He turns to run back to her car and she runs with him.

"Where are we going?" she asks breathlessly.

"Abe said he was on his way home and that Adam was with him." He breathes heavily, not from exhaustion, but from anger and exasperation. If he could, he's sure he would wring Adam's neck with his bare hands. "Jo - the door. Please open the door on my side; let's go!" he desperately implores.

Jo unlocks the doors and they climb in, but an idea hits her. Once inside the car, she pecks on her phone and shushes Henry with a raised finger as he impatiently urges her to get the car moving. After several moments, her face lights up and she calmly says, "Abe's phone is still on. I'm guessing that Adam doesn't know that. And you know else, Henry?" She turns the phone's face towards him that shows a red dot moving in an upward direction on the screen. "Abe's not headed home." She points to the red dot. "They're headed north." Both she and Henry reach the same conclusion at the same time and voice it in unison: "The Center!"

Jo passes the phone to Henry with explicit instructions to "just hold it". She opens the glove compartment, pulls out an older, fliptop phone, and uses it to call Reece.

"Hey, Lieu. We're on our way to Barnes' research facility." She looks at Henry as she holds the phone to her ear. "Er, yes, it appears that Adam has Abe and they're on their way there in Abe's car." She nods as she starts up the car and merges once again with the northbound traffic.

Henry listens intently to the one-sided conversation as he pulls his lips in and furrows his brow.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." She asks Henry about Abe's car, his license plate number, anything. But he can't concentrate enough to dig the information out of his worried mind. As she watches his struggle, she reassures him that the techs will pull the relevant information out of the DMV database.

He suddenly recalls one day seeing Abe fiddle with cords and pieces of a small, electronic device which he'd then placed under the carpet in the trunk of his car. In case his car was ever stolen or aliens abducted him, he'd jokingly told Henry. They'd had a good laugh over it at the time, but now he lauds Abe's actions as a stroke of genius.

She conveys the information to Reece, then ends the call and snaps the phone shut. "Lieu says not to worry; the techs will take care of everything." She points to the phone in Henry's hand. "Tilt the phone towards me a little so I can see the - that's it, thanks. Keep your eyes on that red dot. It's tracking the GPS in Abe's _phone_." He nods but she catches the bit of confusion in his expression.

"We're doing double duty on this." she explains as she pushes the speed limit through the traffic. "My phone is tracking the GPS in Abe's phone, while Lieu's having someone at the precinct track the GPS in Abe's car. In case that psycho gets wise to the phone being tracked, we can still track the car." She gives Henry a small smile. "We're gonna get to him, don't worry. Lieu's also alerting law enforcement up ahead-"

"What you call a BOLO, right?" Henry asks, panic once again in his face and voice. "Jo, there's no telling what Adam will do if they try to approach him or pull the car over."

"They won't, Henry." she assures him. "They're being advised to identify and pursue at a distance - not to approach." She eyes him quickly, then looks back at the road. "We want eyes on them; we want to make sure that Abe remains safe and unharmed until we can catch up to them."

Henry relaxes a little, nods, and manages a weak smile. He looks down at the phone in his hand, at the still moving red dot, and back up at the onrushing roadway ahead. "I'm afraid, Jo." He blinks back his tears. "I'm so afraid for him." He grips the phone and swallows a few times, and in a shaky voice, whispers, "The last time that someone I loved was alone with that man..." his voice chokes.

Jo blinks back her own tears. Tears of anger. Anger towards Adam for his past misdeeds against Henry and his family. She wants so much to comfort Henry for his loss and for how much he's suffered at Adam's hand. But she knows she must keep her emotions in check. She wills her cop's instincts to take over and help her to stay on point.

After 15 minutes Jo is notified that Abe and Adam have been spotted but as per orders, they will pursue at a distance, and not approach. Both Henry and Jo release a sigh of relief at the news.

During her several years as a cop, Jo has seen it lots of times before; when a parent hears promising news of their child's whereabouts. She sees once again the unmistakable parental love and concern that her unofficial partner has for his son. No matter that outsiders may mistakenly conclude that Abe is the family patriarch, she knows the truth. It both warms her heart and breaks it at the same time. How awful, she thinks, that the two men have been forced for decades to hide their true relationship because of Henry's condition.

Suddenly, the red dot stops moving.

"It stopped! The red dot, it stopped moving!" Terror-stricken, Henry shakes the phone in his hands and points the screen at her. "Jo, what does it mean?"

She calmly but firmly pries the phone from his hands and looks at the screen. "Just as I feared, Henry. Adam must have tossed the phone out of the window." With her eyes on the road ahead, she soothingly reminds him of the secondary option of the car's GPS. "We've still got a good eye on them."

The phone's screen now displays a red dot moving northward once more. She smiles and hands the phone back to Henry with the same instructions as before. He gratefully takes the phone and holds it with the screen tilted towards her. She smiles and points at it and declares, "That's the techies tracking the GPS equipment on Abe's car."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

A few minutes earlier...

Abe squirms uncomfortably in his seat and frowns at Adam. "Look, I don't know about you, but I gotta pull over." Adam doesn't reply. "I gotta take a leak!" Adam slowly looks him up and down, but still doesn't reply.

Abe points to a truck weigh station. "I can pull over there, go in the bushes, maybe you need to go, too, I don't know, but I DO!"

"If you must." Adam finally responds. "But be quick about it!" He snatches the phone from under the dashboard and rolls down the window. "While we're at it, let's just get rid of **this**." He tosses the phone out of the window and rolls it back up.

Abe pulls off the roadway towards the weigh station thinking he'd like nothing better than to wipe that smug look off of Adam's face. _'OK, so he figured out about the phone. Let's hope he doesn't figure out about the GPS in the trunk.'_

"There they are, Henry." Jo excitedly reports. She opens the flip-top phone and presses the speed dial button for Lt. Reece. "Lieu, we have a 20 on them. We tracked them to a truck weigh station off of..." her voice trails off as she looks in her rear view mirror and sees Reece and Hanson in the car behind her. She grins and announces, "Cavalry's here, Henry."

Henry can barely contain himself as he watches Abe and Adam exit the vehicle and head for the privacy of their respective bushes.

"What are they doing?" Jo asks as she parks the car at the exit of the weigh station in order to avoid detection.

"Nature calls, I suppose." Henry says mostly to himself as he cranes his neck to keep his son in view.

An unmarked police car pulls up beside Jo and Henry and they all pile out and crouch behind the cars. The same scenario plays out near the entrance of the weigh station with a NJ State police car and the one driven by Reece.

Jo ditches the flip-top phone and calls Reece on the one with the bells and whistles. "Lieu...right...okay." She hangs up and keeps her eyes on the overgrown bushes the two men had disappeared behind a few moments earlier.

"Why aren't they coming out?" Henry asks anxiously.

"We wait for Lieu's signal." Jo whispers as she keeps watch from her vantage point.

One of the plainclothes NJ detectives identifies herself and her partner. "Det. Whitehall." She nods to the man behind her. "My partner, Det. Cochran."

"Det. Martinez, NYPD; this is Dr. Morgan, from the OCME." Jo acknowledges them quickly and turns her attention back to the scene.

"OCME? You two workin' a homocide?" Det. Cochran asks, confused.

Henry bristles at his question but he remains uncharacteristically silent and leaves it to Jo to respond.

"Hostage situation." she crisply replies. "Friendly is an elderly gentleman named Abe. The guy we want is much younger, in his 30's, brown hair-"

"Yeah, we got their descriptions earlier." Det. Whitehall replies. "Let's hope we won't need the services of your office, Dr. Morgan." she smiles briefly at Henry then ala Jo, quickly turns her attention back to the scene.

Just as Reece is about to give the signal to move in, Abe emerges from behind one of the bushes. He starts towards his car but quickly becomes aware of the police's persence. He stops, looks around in surprise and raises his hands up. Henry starts to jump up but Jo roughly shoves him back down.

"Stay put, Henry. We have to get Ad- (she catches herself) the gunman." He squinches his eyes shut, lowers his head and nods in agreement. He raises them back up to see Abe escorted to his car by Reece. Hanson and the two NJ State policemen spread out and search the weigh station building and surrounding area. As Jo and the other two NJ detectives join the search, Henry and Abe are reunited.

"Am I happy to see you!" Abe smiles broadly as he sees Henry sprint over to him. The two men embrace and release each other. Though his father is now greatly relieved, the traces of worry and tension are still visible on his face. Abe feels badly for his obviously misguided actions.

"Abraham, what were you thinking?" Henry demands. He lowers his voice and steps closer. "He could have killed you. Just like he killed your mother."

"He didn't kill Mom."

Henry recoils at his statement. A look of consernation sweeps across his face.

"He...he was the reason Mom killed herself, but he didn't actually..." he realizes this is a losing argument where his father is concerned. "I just thought I could reach him. That there had to be something deep inside him left that would understand he just needs to go away and leave you alone."

Henry sighs and shakes his head, the worry still etched on his face. "Regardless of why she chose to...do that...she would never have done it if he had not interfered in our lives!" They study each other for a few moments.

"I was just trying to help...that's all." Abe said, the fatigue evident in his voice and carriage.

Henry softens and pats him on the shoulder. "I know, Abraham." He looks around a couple of times then back at his son. "Where is he, anyway? What happened? Did he...?" Henry raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly.

Abe looks around and shrugs. "I don't know. But looks like it." He puts his hands on his hips and sighs. "Sorry, Dad. The plan worked on paper...sort of."

Hanson emerges from the bushes. "Found this." He holds up a plastic ziploc bag with a gun in it.

"That's the gun he held on me." Abe says.

"Get it back to the lab as quickly as possible." Reece orders. "No sign of him?"

"None." Hanson drops his arms and sighs.

"He seems to have vanished into thin air." Det. Whitehall adds. "But he couldn't have gone far. Not on foot." She displays her badge to Lt. Reece and Det. Hanson. "We'll put a BOLO out for him and keep you informed if anything comes up." She and Det. Cochran give their goodbyes and walk back to their car.

"Thank you, Detectives." Reece calls after them. She turns and pointedly stares at Abe and Henry as she folds her arms across her chest and slowly walks towards them.

Abe eyes her nervously and whispers to Henry, "She gonna shoot me?"

"No, but Jo might." Henry whispers back and tips his head in Jo's direction. Abe looks over at a very annoyed Det. Martinez who slowly shakes her head as if to say, shame, shame. Abe ducks his head and misses the smile trying to form on her lips.

Reece is now in front of Henry and Abe. She lowers her head a bit but keeps her eyes on Abe. "Mr. Morgan."

"Oh, Abe, please." he smiles.

"Abraham." Henry chastises him.

Reece continues, her voice rises with each statement. "Mr. Morgan. Detectives Hanson and Martinez and I have more than 60 years' experience in law enforcement. You, sir, are a civilian. We are sworn to protect and serve you and others like you." She points at Henry. "Even him."

It's Henry's turn to duck his head.

She crosses her arms back and makes Abe a promise. "I catch you playing cops and robbers again, I will have you arrested for obstruction of justice!" She tilts her head to the side as she looks at Abe. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Abe replies timidly. "Yes. Very clear." He casts a pitying look for help at his father who chooses to keep his head ducked down.

Tirade over, Reece heaves a big sigh and asks with genuine concern. "Now...are you okay...Abe? Adam didn't harm you, did he?"

Abe relaxes somewhat. "I-I'm okay. He didn't harm me at all." Henry gives him a certain look.

"Uh, thank you, Lieutenant." Abe adds. He remembers that look from his growing up years: respect your elders and those in authority. And Lt. Reece is definitely in authority.

"Good." she says. "I'll expect you to come down to the precinct to give your statement." Abe nods. "Tomorrow morning will be fine." He nods again and she turns and heads towards her car. She motions for Hanson and the two of them drive back to New York City.

Ben and Lucas had ridden up with Reece and Hanson. Ben had reasoned that he could possibly be of use in case of any injuries or if Adam chose to escape by trying to cause his own death he could quickly heal him with his blood. Lucas had given the usual argument that he was officially Henry's M.E., partner, and, therefore, might be needed in case of any injuries or loss of life. For lack of time, they'd chosen not to argue with either of them for they both had made good points.

"There goes our ride." Ben says to Lucas as he watches them drive away. He walks over and joins Henry, Abe and Jo. "Tough lady." he says.

"Tough cop." Jo says. "One of the best."

He nods in agreement. "She really snapped her cap4 and gave it to Abe for goin' gumshoe4."

He ignores Jo and Lucas' mild confusion at his 1930's slang. "Startin' to feel like a stray puppy here." He looks at Jo. "Mind if I hitch a ride from you back to the City?"

"Sure." Jo says. Henry looks hesitantly at her and then at Abe. "It's alright, Henry. You and Abe are due some alone time." She kisses them both on the cheek, her lips linger a little longer on Henry's.

Jo, Lucas and Ben all walk back to her car and pile in. As they pull away from the weigh station, Ben peers curiously at Henry and Abe as they follow in Abe's car. From the backseat, he inquires as to the exact relationship between Henry and Abe because it was hard to miss their obvious devotion to each other. "Are they a couple?" he ventures.

Lucas chuckles. "No, Abe is Henry's son." he says matter-of-factly.

"Lucas!" Jo chides him.

"Well...uh...' Lucas is startled at her reaction. "The big guy gave him the condensed version of his condition (he made air quotes with his fingers). He looks at an astonished Ben and an annoyed Jo.

"His son." Ben marvels at the revelation. "Wow." He turns the impossible fact over in his mind again and again. No wonder he was so upset, he realizes. "From what you told me, Lucas, sounds like this Adam guy could use a Chicago overcoat5."

"What's your next step, Det. Martinez?" Ben asks.

"We find this Adam guy and and see if we can't find an overcoat that fits him."

4 1930's slang found at / slang / 1930s -

5 1940's slang found at coolest / content / top - 15 - slang - words - 4 0 % E 2 % 8 0 % 9 9 s


	13. Safety Net Ch 21

**Summary:**

Barnes confides in Henry and opens old wounds. Word of Adam's capture reaches the precinct. But will they be able to bring him in?

 **Notes:**

I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

 **Chapter Text**

Lt. Reece motors away from the truck scales and onto the highway back to the precinct. Her lone passenger, Det. Mike Hanson, ponders the situation so far.

"Think you mighta been kinda hard on Abe?" he asks with one eyebrow up, the other down.

"He foolishly put himself in harm's way. I'm not pulling any punches with him just because he's Henry's son. What I told him is what I would have told any other citizen who unnecessarily involved themselves in police business."

Hanson nods, his mouth set in a thin line. "Yeah. You're right."

"And I don't know who's more dangerous: Barnes or that Adam creep." She shakes her head and sighs. "I want to question Barnes myself, but..." She sighs again, keeping her eyes on the road. "I'll leave it to the three of you."

"You mean me, Jo and the Doc." He says, more a statement than a question.

Reece nods.

"Well, he basically refused treatment at the scene of the accident so he's being transported back to the precinct. He should be there by the time we get back." He leans back, closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders back a few times. "Some kinda day, huh?" he chuckles but is only half amused.

"Days, plural, Detective." Reece shakes her head. "None of my training in the academy could have prepared me for anything like what we've dealt with these past few days."

"There's something else." Hanson begins, his brow knitted. "That gun we recovered has never been fired." Reece glances curiously at him.

"My dad taught me all about guns from when he used to collect them. This gun," he holds it up in the plastic bag, "ain't real and it ain't loaded."

"He couldn't kill himself with it and do his disappearing act." Reece nods as she catches his train of thought.

"One Lucas Wahl should be very interested to see this." Hanson says as he studies the gun. He looks up to the perplexed look on Reece's face. "He makes those short films, remember? He uses all kinds of phony but real-looking stuff in the making of 'em. Fake blood, fake corpses, scary makeup."

Her cell phone buzzes and she answers. "Lt. Reece."

 _(Lieutenant, Det. Marcia Whitehall here.)_

Reece puts the call on speaker so Hanson can also hear. "Yes, Detective. You have some news for me?"

 _(We recovered a cellphone belonging to an Abraham Morgan, about half a mile before the truck scales.)_

"Yes, the hostage. He'll be happy to hear his phone was recovered."

 _(We also found an unconscious man in the dumpster behind the truck scales.)_

She sighs. "A vic? Describe him."

 _(Male, Hispanic, 5'6", 145 pounds, late 40's. Employed here at the truck scales. )_

She and Hanson look at each other and shake their heads. Not Adam.

 _(Has a nasty head wound, but expected to recover. Says he never saw or heard anything because he'd dozed off. Doesn't want us to tell his boss. Anyway, he says next thing he knew he woke up like we found him. But we got a rollin' stolen - the vic's motorcycle is missing.)_

Reece and Hanson exchange exasperated looks this time.

"Detective, the hostage told us that the gunman was determined to get to a research facility in Ithaca." She shares the facility's name and address. "We're not sure what his intentions are but he's obviously dangerous."

 _(We'll get right on it. We'll keep you in the loop.)_

"Thank you, Detective." Reece ends the call. "How in the - (she scoffs) - how could he have gotten away on a _loud_ (she draws out the word) motorcycle right under our noses?"

"Maybe he rolled it a ways down the road then hopped on and...I don't know. But according to Henry and Abe, this guy's got 2000 years of experience under his belt. We're just now finding out how to deal with him and his shenanigans." He shrugs at his boss. "At least we know he didn't off himself to get away. It probably would have bounced him into - whatever river he bounces...back into." He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can't believe some of the things he'd just said.

"I know one thing." Reece announces. "I'm gonna need a lonnnggg vacation after all this."

"You and me, both." Hanson agrees.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Detectives Whitehall and Cochrane slowly approach a reportedly stolen motorcycle in the parking lot of a rest stop just off the highway. They approach a State Trooper and display their badges as he finishes taking the statement of an elderly couple in their 80's. The couple, Howard and Mazie Keyes, detail their brief but unsettling encounter with a man matching the description of their hostage-taking perp.

Howard anxiously reports to them, "Me and the missus parked here to stretch our legs, take some pictures. Next thing I hear is muh car startin' up, so I turns around and sees this young guy drivin' away in it! He even had the nerve to smile and salute me!"

"Did he say anything?" Whitehall asks.

"Just pointed to this chopper here-" He turns to his wife, apparently unnerved by his terminology, pats her hand on his arm and whispers to her, "that's what they call 'em Mazie." She smiles and nods. He then turns his attention back to the two detectives.

"No, nothing, just zoomed off in our car, stranded us here." Mazie nods in agreement at all of them. Howard grumbles, "Now what are we supposed to do?

"Young folks nowadays; always in a hurry." Mazie shakes her head and frowns. "He had such a nice smile."

"And he's probably a patriot. He saluted." Howard points out. "Bet he wore the uniform at one time."

"Yes, well, that so-called patriot with the nice smile is wanted for questioning in a string of crimes including kidnapping, assault and now the theft of _two_ vehicles." Det. Cochrane dryly informs them.

The couple's eyes widen and they look in wonder at each other.

"Seemed like such a nice young man." Mazie laments again.

"Call it in." Whitehall tells Cochrane flatly. He proceeds to do so.

"And let Lt. Reece know." she calls over her shoulder to Cochrane as he calls and walks towards their car.

"Uh, Officer?" Howard shuffles a few steps closer to Whitehall. "Could you show me how to operate that chopper?" a mischievious smile on his lips and glint in his eye.

"Oh, no, Howard, I-I-I can't, I mean, we can't ride this thing anywhere." Mazie pleads, horrified.

"Your wife's right, sir." Whitehall plucks the keys from Howard's fingers. "Sorry, but I'll have to take these. She points to the two-wheeler. "It's stolen and it's now evidence."

Howard frowns and scratches the side of the scruff on his cheek. "We were on our way to visit a doctor in Ithaca-"

"A scientist, dear." Mazie reminds him, nodding her head.

"Er, yes, a scientist who works in gene therapy. Barnes, that's his name. Said he could make me and muh Mazie - young again." He and Mazie stand taller and smile broadly.

Whitehall is shocked by his words. She senses Cochrane as he rejoins them. "You hear that?" she mutters to her partner, unable to take her eyes off the beaming couple.

"Yeah." Cochrane replies, stupefied. He sighs and plucks out his phone again. "Call it in."

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Cochrane's call to Reece was relayed to Jo Martinez, who then swung by the shop to pick up Henry, who'd only arrived there 10 minutes earlier with Abe. Henry raised his hands at his son, shrugged, and got into Jo's car so they could return to the precinct to question Barnes. Ben accepted Abe and Henry's generous offer of a meal and room for a few nights. Beats the fleabag motel he was staying in, Ben admitted. So Jo, Henry, and Lucas returned to the precinct.

Once they arrived at the precinct, Henry instructed Lucas to prep Victor Caswell's body. After that, he could call it a day.

"Hanson wants Lucas to take a look at the gun he recovered from outside the truck scales." Jo reminds Henry. He nods and looks at Lucas.

A broad smile creeps across Lucas's face. "Sure. No pro-BLAY-mo. Glad to share my expert opinion on the weaponry in question." he primly states. Henry and Jo exchange amused smiles.

"Very good, Lucas. I'll be in one of the interrogation rooms with the Lieutenant and the detectives." Henry tells him as he and Jo exit the elevator.

A very frustrated and tired-looking Hanson waits outside Interrogation Room 1 as Henry and Jo approach.

"He won't say a word." Hanson says as they draw closer.

"He's taking the 5th?" Jo asks.

"Nope. He's ready to talk, but insists on spillin' his guts only to you, Doc." he points at Henry.

Henry frowns, confused. "He does understand that I am not an officer of the law-"

"Claims he knows his rights and would rather talk to you because, and I quote, only you can appreciate and understand the scientific complexities preponderant to the arrestation of the aging process." He drops his notepad and rolls his eyes. "You eggheads have at it." He motions towards the door to the interrogation room. Henry scoffs as he gives a lopsided grin to Hanson.

Jo places her hand on Henry's arm and reminds him of the room's electronic surveillance equipment. "Lieu's allowing you to speak with him because of the...extenuating circumstances involved in this case."

He nods that he understands the unstated implications. His lips pulled in, he nervously enters the room. Even though he'd recently shared his secret with a handful of his colleagues, it always unnerved him to come face to face with someone from his distant past. Distant enough so that he should have appeared much older to them than he did. He'd always either lied or simply ran from them and pulled up roots and ran even further.

Barnes looks up as Henry enters the room. The two men lock eyes as Henry walks over and seats himself at the small table across from him.

"Nice to see you again, Dr. Morgan." Barnes says after several moments of studying him.

Henry sighs. "I understand that you would like to share some information with me." His outward calmness belies his inner turmoil.

"I'm pretty sure I can help you." Barnes leans forward and lowers his voice. "You won't have to live in the shadows any longer, Doctor."

Henry tilts his head and squints at Barnes in confusion.

"You see, I remember." Barnes continues. It excites him to finally share his thoughts with the man he believes to be immortal. "When I was a kid living next door to you and Abe and your wife. She was...real pretty, real nice lady, but...she started looking older than you. Abe got older, grew up."

Barnes' voice rises and his words cause painful memories to hurtle toward Henry in lightning speed. "Me, my brother, David, my parents, our neighbors! We all got older, but you..." his voice drops back down to a whisper as he points a shaky finger at Henry, "you didn't." He studies Henry's reactions.

The learned M.E., swallows, his throat suddenly dry. But he manages to keep his emotions in check as he mentally patches the old wounds opened up by Barnes' careless words.

"There...there's a serum in my lab that can help people like you."

"People like me?" Henry feigns ignorance.

"People, who, for whatever reason, cannot show signs of aging."

"And...exactly...what can this serum do?" Henry asks as if politely indulging the poor fellow, but deep down - he wants to know.

"I've managed to jumpstart certain dormant genes in Ben Larson's DNA and combine them with decelerated genes from the DNA of progeria sufferers. My synthetic version can be manufactured and distributed to people who want to have the appearance of actual aging without the debilitating effects of progeria. You see, the properties in Ben's DNA slows the aging process just enough that a person who can't age, appears to age naturally. They'll get gray hairs, wrinkles, pot bellies, double chins." He laughs. "They'll be able to experience all the things the rest of the mortal population is trying to delay. Think of it, Dr. Morgan, to be able to come out of the shadows and live your life out in the open, just like everyone else."

Think of it, indeed. Henry can't help but salivate at the possibilities. If only he knew for certain that Barnes was speaking the truth. That he wasn't just mistaken or, worse, completely mad. It would completely change his life and his lifestyle. But...

"And you have scientific proof that this, uh, serum of yours actually works?" Henry clasps his hands together in order to hide their shaking and holds his breath.

"Turritopsis nutricula*." He gives a self-satisfied response as he straightens up and folds his arms across his chest.

"The species of jellyfish that once adulthood is reached, they can transfer their cells back to childhood. You're implying that your serum ages them further into adulthood?" That particular species has always fascinated him and made him wonder if something similar was happening in his own body. After more than a century without results, he'd abandoned his research.

Barnes gives a deep nod of his head. "Not only was I able to age them, but continued use of the serum even allowed some of them to die." he gleefully reports.

"Some of them?"

His smile fades a bit and he lowers his eyes. "Well, yes, just some." He frowns and rubs his forehead. "Haven't got an answer yet as to why it only worked with some," his smile returns and he perks up again, "but it did work - for some." He clasps his hands in front of him on the table as he leans forward again. "Just think about it, Doctor. Back then, your wife wouldn't have left you because she visibly aged past you."

Henry's heart almost stops as he once again fights off the painful memories and struggles to maintain a calm demeanor.

Jo bites her lower lip and fights back tears as she watches Henry and can only imagine what he must be going through at this moment.

Reece watches Henry intently for any sign that he's had enough so she can have him rescued. It amazes her how calm he appears even though the other man's words must rake at his heart.

"I don't like where this is goin'." Hanson mutters as he places his fists on his hips.

"Must have been hard for her. Growing older and losing her looks while you remained looking 35 and eventually like her son."

Henry abruptly stands and walks the few steps towards the window. His head down, he rubs the back of his neck with one hand and fights the tears that suddenly sting his eyes.

"I understand that you reported her missing at the time, hired a couple private investigators, and bugged the heck out of the police, but nothing ever panned out. She was never found, was she?" He looked at Henry, then back down at his hands. "Must have been painful to lose the love of your life like that. I understand you turned to the bottle for a few years."

"We gotta stop this." Hanson looks at his boss. "This is gotta be killin' the Doc." And, frankly, he felt uncomfortable knowing the man's private pain. Not that he doesn't care, he just feels like a voyeur at this point.

Jo looks imploringly at her boss. "Lieu-"

"We've all had to conduct emotionally painful interrogations. We're here to get information from this man, a suspect in a criminal investigation. Because of his poor judgment and errant behavior, one man is dead, a young woman is fighting for her life, and a very dangerous immortal man is on the loose. God knows what he's capable of and what he plans to do next.

"But Henry's a doctor, he's not a cop like us." Hanson presses.

"That's right. Henry's a doctor. I'm sure as a medical professional he's had his fair share of emotionally painful cases, as well. Look, I know he's not a cop, but we need answers right now and we're getting them. And, according to him, he's dealt more than once with situations like this. I know it's hard for you to watch him go through this. It's hard for me. But Henry's tough. He'll survive." She blinks back her own tears and hates this part of her job that requires her to render seemingly heartless decisions. She watches her M.E., as he bravely absorbs Barnes' daggered words.

Barnes snorts out a laugh. "How did Abe handle that? Growing older until he looked like - what did you guys tell people? That you were brothers? Then...?" He shakes his head. "I'll bet people think he's your father by now, right?"

"Look," Henry abruptly turns to him, "I've been patient with you because you said you wanted only to speak with me. But I can assure you that I am _not_ the person you think I am." he firmly tells Barnes.

Barnes leans back and warily eyes Henry. "You're Dr. Henry Morgan, right?"

"That is both my name and title, yes. But you obviously have me confused with my grandfather's younger brother. Strong family resemblances seem to be a Morgan family trait." He clasps his hands behind him and juts out his jaw at Barnes.

"Can't fool me, Doctor." Barnes says quietly. "I know it's you." He sighs and leans back in his chair. "Same accent, same qirky mannerisms, same manner of dress. My brother and I used to mimic you behind your back. Sorry. We were kids and...we liked the way you talked."

Henry frowns disapprovingly but says nothing.

"But consider this. If you meet someone else and fall in love with her, you'll have a few years together. You can use makeup to artificially age yourself, but eventually you'll bury her if she doesn't leave you like your wife did. Who knows how long you'll walk this earth? Hundreds? Thousands? Maybe millions of years. Maybe in the future it won't matter that you live forever. I don't know. But for now, it does. When people find out about you, they're going to react in fear. You'll probably be locked up by the government somewhere and taken apart like a Tinker toy to find out what makes you tick."

The bad memories flood his mind again of when his secret was revealed and how he'd suffered more than once at the hands of those who either wanted to destroy him, or turn him inside out in an effort to learn the miracle of his immortality.

Reece and Hanson can't help but suddenly look at Jo, who covers her mouth with her hands and blinks back her tears.

Henry slowly turns and casts a sorrowful look at the two-way mirror behind which he's sure Jo and the others are watching. He blinks several times and swallows.

Jo softly sobs.

"Lieu, please, lemme get him outta there." Hanson pleads and she closes her eyes and nods. Hanson moves swiftly to the door and places his hand on the knob.

"Wait." Lieu orders.

Henry schools his features and turns back to face Barnes. "As I said before, you are mistaken as to my identity. You have me confused with my Granduncle Henry who was also a doctor and also British, hence the accent. I can assure you that I am not he."

Barnes knits his brow and watches Henry as he once again seats himself across from him.

"Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?" Henry begins. "You are facing some serious charges at the moment. Kidnapping and vehicular manslaughter for starters. Those are pretty serious charges, either of which carry long prison sentences."

"I didn't kill anyone. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt, I just wanted to help-" Barnes protests.

"Yes. You just wanted to help." Henry nods. "Then what you need to know is that a very dangerous individual is determined to invade your laboratory. What he lacks in scientific knowledge, he makes up for in cunning. He's a ruthlessly violent, vengeful person. Your little escapade with the help of Victor Caswell, has allowed him to freely roam the streets again. Your discoveries in his hands, the _wrong_ hands, might I add, could wreak havoc upon many innocent people."

Barnes slowly realizes who Henry is referring to. "The patient. The John Doe. He vanished into thin air and-"

"I don't know what you thought you saw, but I can assure you, he is very much alive and bent on illegally obtaining what's in your laboratory."

Barnes scowls. "There's nothing I can do to prevent that from here. I'm in police custody, miles and miles away. Good luck if he makes it inside the building, let alone onto the grounds. Security's pretty tight." he assures him.

Just then, Reece's phone rings and she answers it. After a few short words she ends the call and puts her phone away. "Wonder of wonders." she breathes out. "They have Adam in custody and they're bringing him in." She smiles at both her detectives.

Hanson lets loose a "Hot dog!" and the news of his capture even brings a small smile to Jo's lips. As if on cue, and just when Hanson readies himself once more to rescue Henry from the interrogation room, Henry stands up and excuses himself. The three of them exit the viewing area to meet Henry in the hallway.

As they step into the hallway, they find him slumped against the wall, his head hanging. Fatigue, fear, and grief have left him emotionally drained. What must Jo be thinking now? That's the only thing that matters to him at the moment. What must she think of him now or what kind of life they could ever hope to have together? He wants to see her but he doesn't. When he notices them watching him, he turns away and balances himself with one hand on the wall and the other on his hip. The painful memories surge up again and threaten to drown him in a pool of sorrow.

Jo walks slowly up behind him and places her hands on his back. She looks over her shoulder but finds that Reece and Hanson have made themselves scarce. She presses her check to the back of his shoulder and her arms encircle him from behind. After a few moments, she finally feels the muscles in his back and shoulders relax. She steps around to face him and leans a shoulder against the wall. Her hand slips into his and she tugs him towards a door at the end of the hallway that leads to a break room and, thankfully, a freshly-brewed pot of coffee. They sit at a small round table and nurse their cups in silence.

"What are you thinking?" she asks quietly.

He smiles weakly. "I should be asking you that."

She squeezes his hand and looks him directly in the eyes. "I. Love. You. I don't care what that little idiot said in there. You're not getting rid of me so easily. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not anytime soon." She shakes her head which causes her long, dark tresses to bounce.

A smile slowly works its way across his face as he reaches over to brush a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. He then caresses her cheek and she closes her eyes and leans into his touch.

"Is that a threat or a fact?" he teases.

"Uh, oh, that's a fact." she teases back.

"Well, then we have no other choice but to seal it with a kiss." he smiles.

Their lips meet and they once again bask in the warm, sweet glow that only a new relationship brings. However, they're both aware that they are in a public place, a place of work, so they pull away from each. For several moments, they sit and hold hands, eyes closed, foreheads touching.

"We have to, um, get back to work." she whispers.

"Um-hmm." He plants small kisses along her jawline.

"No...um...break room, Henry."

He ignores her and now nibbles at her ear lobe which sends chills up and down her spine.

The break room door creaks open and they immediately pull away from each other. Four unis enter and break the silence of the room with their chatter and laughter. Jo and Henry take it as a signal for them to return to their respective posts.

"At least we got sort of a confession from Barnes. He's in a lot of trouble." Jo ticks off the various charges against him. "He's facing some serious jail time."

"What a shame. He has such a brilliant mind." He turns to Jo. "He was a boy genius." Henry shakes his head and sighs. "I had such high hopes for him, as did his parents. Who would have thought he'd wind up like this? And who would have thought he'd wind up being responsible for Adam being on the loose again?"

"Oh, that's right. We didn't get a chance to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Adam's in custody."

He stops walking and gapes at her.

"They're bringin' 'im in as we speak."

 **Notes:**

*Turritopsis nutricula is a small jellyfish that once reaching adulthood, can transfer its cells back to childhood. It may do this process to live longer. Several different species of the genus Turritopsis were formerly classified as T. nutricula, including the "immortal jellyfish" which is now classified as T. dohrnii.


	14. Safety Net Ch 22

I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters. Chapter Text

 _Jo: We didn't get a chance to tell you."_

 _Henry: "Tell me what?"_

 _Jo: "Adam's in custody ... They're bringin' 'im in as we speak."_

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The Lieutenant and the two detectives exit the viewing area and step into the hall to share the highly anticipated news of Adam's capture with Henry. But when they see how disturbed he is after the interview session with Barnes, they quietly step back into the viewing area and close the door in order to give Jo and Henry a moment's privacy. They wait in silence as Reece watches Barnes write out his statement in longhand on a legal pad. Hanson eyes Barnes, then Reece, then turns his back to both of them and takes a few steps towards the back wall, where he turns around and leans back against it.

Hanson watches Barnes for a second, then catches his boss' stony-faced reflection in the two-way mirror. "Uh, Lieu?" he asks uncertainly.

"Yes?" Her lips barely move, her eyes remain locked on Barnes.

Hanson sighs and steps closer to her, his hands flexing and unflexing nervously. "I get it about this Adam guy: creepy, devious, maybe bent on revenge against the Doc, but why is he being brought back here? He committed at least three crimes outside the city limits, right? And none of 'em homicides. In fact, if you want to look at it a certain way, he was a victim. Barnes and Caswell kidnapped him from Bellevue. Not his fault that he died while they had him and he ... he, uh, came back - geez, I don't know what I'm sayin' lately." He washed his hands down his face.

Reece cracks just the tiniest hint of a smile. She can definitely relate to the detective's frustration at having to expand his vocabulary to include supernatural references reserved for people and events heretofore found only in a magic book or a sci-fi movie. She answers him but keeps her voice even and her eyes trained on Barnes.

"More than just three crimes, Mike. He's been a busy little scoundrel since he 'woke up'. Don't forget that he carjacked Abe, too. Doesn't matter that the gun wasn't real or loaded. I doubt if either of them were even aware it was a fake. And Detectives Whitehall and Cochrane caught him redhanded in Barnes' laboratory." She chuckles humorlessly. "Oh, yes, he's been a very bad boy since he 'woke up'."

"Okay, well ... I guess ... I guess what I'm askin' is, why bring him back here for questioning? None of those are homicides."

"Remember the Raj Patel and Richard Smite murders?"

Hanson nods. "Ya make Adam for the perp on those?"

"We should be able to find out for sure once we question him. I'd be willing to bet my badge on it, though. And Henry did share that Adam had been his stalker. While he was, or posed as, Henry's psychologist, he had direct access to disturbed individuals. He may have tricked Clarke Walker into thinking he could attain immortality by either killing Henry or being killed by him."

Hanson sighs and nods again. "Yeah, the Doc was forced to kill Walker, thinking _he_ was the stalker."

Reece nods. "Unfortunately, according to Henry, he found out afterwards that it was all a ruse by Adam to get him to kill someone." She shakes her head in disgust. A couple of other murder victims cross her mind, too. Julian Glausser, the bank vault employee who died of multiple cuts inflicted by someone with a straight razor. And Xander Thomas, who died a similar death after he'd had the misfortune of coming briefly into possession of a certain, ancient Roman dagger later associated with Adam's first death in 44 B.C. Henry had stopped short of naming Adam as the killer in these unsolved cases. However, she'd conducted her own separate investigations and had come to some startling conclusions that made no sense at the time. They made perfect sense now, though. She isn't ready to share her suspicions or her findings with Hanson or Jo just yet. And as much as it pains her, she knows that Henry will have to be involved in interviewing Adam. She hopes that his present emotional state isn't too fragile to allow him to face his old enemy. She hopes that she and the rest of her team can hold up, as well, under these extraordinary circumstances.

"He sounds like a prize." Hanson huffs out and glances at his watch. "Any idea of when they'll arrive with him? There's a steak dinner with my name on it right about now." He smirks and pats his stomach.

"Coffee and sandwiches are due any minute." She smiles, knowing full well he had his heart set on the heartier meal.

"Sandwiches, huh?" He scratches the top of his head and droops his shoulders down. "Okay, as long as one of 'em has a steak in it."

Barnes signs his statement, plunks the pencil down on the pad and pushes it away from him as if it were poison. He clasps his hands together and frowns at the pad that he's certain contains enough self-incrimination to poison the rest of his professional career, if not his life. He gravely studies his own reflection in the two-way mirror and then shifts his eyes slightly upward in an effort to meet the unseen eyes on the other side. The eyes of whomever else is now witness to his unfortunate change in circumstances. _'At least I look and feel 15 years younger than before, thanks to the serum I concocted from Ben's blood. The extra dose of stamina will be much needed while serving what will probably be a very long prison sentence.'_

Reece and Hanson exchange looks and then exit the viewing area. Reece heads to her office, while Hanson sees to Barnes getting down to Booking and his statement getting transcribed.

Jo sits at her desk and Henry occupies the seat next to it. Reece walks into the bullpen and the two of them stand and meet her.

"Martinez, Doctor." she greets them. "Barnes gave a full statement. He's in Booking right now. Hanson will be along shortly."

"I understand that we'll soon have another ... person of interest to question?" Henry asks cautiously, an eyebrow raised.

Reece nods.

"Might I ask why?"

Reece frowns.

He sighs. "He's committed no homicides in his little crime spree."

"You're right, Doctor, not in _this_ crime spree." She lowers her head but keeps her eyes locked on his. "And you know what I'm referring to ... don't you?"

His eyes widen as he slowly gets the drift of her meaning. He opens his mouth to answer but closes it into a thin line of resignation and regret. Jo stands up slowly, her face a mass of confusion. Henry's sigh is mixed with both exasperation and relief. Another section of his carefully-crafted wall of lies has fallen. It's evident to him that Reece is fully aware of Adam's possible involvements in some recently unsolved murders. There's no longer any need for him to remain silent about Adam's possible involvement in them. It's both a relief to finally come clean but he dreads being in the presence of the evil, vengeful man once again. It's not just his own safety and wellbeing he's concerned with, it's for that of his colleagues, as well.

"When can we expect him?"

"Little more than a couple of hours. Normally, I'd have him held in the holding pen til morning, but we don't want to waste anymore time with the likes of him. I ordered coffee and sandwiches." She steps closer to Henry and lowers her voice. "Hate to be the bearer of unpleasant news, but ... I'm afraid I'll have to alert Homeland Security on this one."

Henry stares plaintively at her and after a second or two, nods and lowers his head.

"We've got a long night ahead of us, Doctor." She pats him gently on the arm, nods to Jo, then walks into her office and closes the door.

"What was all _that_ about, Henry?"

He inhales deeply and lets it out in a rush. "Let's ... talk in my office, shall we?" He takes her elbow and guides her to the elevators.

"Another long story, Henry?" she groans.

"Ummm ... no, just another interesting facet of it." he grimaces.

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Back at the shop...

Abe rings up the sale of three of their most expensive and intricately-crafted chandeliers that once graced a Manhattan ballroom in the 1930's. He smiles as a small crew of workers carefully cart the lighting fixtures out of the shop and pack them into the back of a 1970's station wagon. They cheerily wave to him as they drive off.

Ben watches with amusement from another part of the shop, making sure to keep out of the workers' way, and that he doesn't break anything. You break it, you buy it, he laughs dryly to himself. As the workers wave and drive off, Abe waves back. He then locks the front door of the shop and flips the Open sign to Closed. Still smiling, he then turns to Ben.

"Let's head upstairs. Bet you're beat after today."

Ben follows behind with one long step to each of Abe's two shuffled ones, although the two men are roughly the same height. "Yeah, yeah, I am." He only now realizes it and yawns loudly. "Oh, sorry." he laughs.

"Don't apologize. Been a long day for everyone." Abe says dismissively. "Could you ever imagine?" He throws up one of his arms and drops it to his side.

Ben shakes his head and grins. He follows Abe into the sitting room and plops down on the couch. He groans at the comfort of finally being off his feet and involuntarily releases another loud yawn and they both laugh.

"I don't know, you might not make it to the bedroom in the shape you're in. Couch is pretty comfortable, though." Abe's voice becomes a bit distant as he turns towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna rustle up some grub. Ya hungry, Ben?"

"Oh, oh, no, Abe, after what you've been through, you don't have to - "

Abe cuts him off. "I'm famished! And I'm gonna feed. my. face. You're welcome to join me."

"Well, when you put it that way, yeah." Ben jumps up off of the couch and scoots into the kitchen. "But you gotta let me help." He rolls up and tucks in his long sleeves and looks around. "Now, where can I help?"

Abe eyes him questioningly. "I'm usually a solo act, but ... if you can keep up ... start by chopping the vegetables."

"Keep up? Keep UP? Listen, kid, you're lookin' at an ex-Navy man. WW2, Korean War, er, Police Action, they called it; Vietnam, another Police Action, AND Desert Storm. I wasn't just a galley Chef, I was a galley Maestro!" He makes a "ta-daaa" motion with his arms.

"Vietnam here, too." Abe points to himself as he places the carrots, onions, peppers, and tomatoes onto the cutting board. "Army, '62-'65." he announces proudly.

The two men prepare their meal amidst lively chatter. But both are careful to share only the lighter memories of their days in uniform. The conversation moves on to other aspects of their lives detailing many shared experiences. And some completely foreign to the other. As they enjoy their meal, they find themselves bonding, much in the same way that Ben had bonded earlier with Henry because of their unnaturally elongated lifespans and the ups and downs that go with that. For Ben, even though Abe appears to be older than he, they are barely a generation apart in age, and therefore, share more similar life experiences and knowledge of popular American culture. It's as though each has found a confidante of the sibling type (big brother Ben, kid brother Abe). They also find it quite freeing to be able to converse and sprinkle in terms relating to immortality, death, reawakening, and lightning speed self-healing. Of special interest to both are the startling events of the day and the past week that pertains to them and the rest of the team. Team. Huh. Lucas had referred to them as a team. They share another laugh as they fondly recall how Lucas is determined to come up with an appropriate moniker for their group. They throw out their own ridiculous possible names for their group and stick out their chests with their hands on their hips ala some misguided, wannabe superhero. Eventually, they clear the dishes, bid each other goodnight and retire. Abe, to his own bedroom, and Ben, to the guest room at the far end of the hall.

Abe pauses before he gets under the covers. He realizes it's been a long time since he's been able to enjoy a real conversation with someone other than his father and not have to hide anything. Not have to tell the soft and sometimes blatant lies necessary for keeping his father's secret. He'd even had to tiptoe around the subject of family and Henry when he was married to Maureen - twice. Even with Adam in the mix, he's truly grateful that his father's circle of friends has recently been expanded. And there was someone else who needs to know. Fawn. His precious Fawn. She means the world to him even though they've only recently reconnected with each other. But she was and is the "one". When all this is over, he promises himself, I've gotta tell her. Of course, he'd discuss it with his father first, but he definitely intends to make room for her in the small circle of confidants. He finally gets into bed and turns off the light.

Down the hall, Ben has his own conversation with himself. He thinks about how empty his life has been since his wife, Marcie, passed away in 2001, in a plane crash. All 232 aboard were killed. How ironic that neither of them had been involved in the 9/11 tragedies and just one short month later, a different plane crash took her from him. Forever. She'd known about his strangely long lifespan but chose to stick with him anyway. He smiles and can still hear her voice urge him to just get out there, make friends, live your life in any way you can. He had resisted because he felt that the fewer people who knew of his secret, the safer the both of them were. It's been a while, he admits, but he thinks he's finally found some real friends that he can trust.

"Good night, Mrs. Marcie Duncan hyphen Larson." He wipes a tear away as he remembers how insistent she was on hyphenating her last name like the first lady had. He finally climbs into bed and pulls the covers up. He turns off the light and falls into a slumber of dreams filled with a smiling Marcie reaching back for him, running on the beach with their terrier, Woody, and the two of them laughing and tumbling into the sea's foam as it laps against the shore.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Jo and Henry enter the morgue together and exchange greetings with Lucas as he steps out of the cooler.

"Caswell's all prepped for tomorrow, Doc." He circles around the autopsy tables and seats himself once again at his small work station. Henry whispers to Jo and sweeps an arm towards his office. She nods, walks in, and sits in one of the small chairs. Henry frowns and pauses next to Lucas' work station as if struggling with a decision. Lucas tenses up, thinking he's about to be reprimanded. He's not sure what he may have done, but it's been his experience that people always seem to find something to blame him for.

"Lucas."

Lucas nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Sorry, sorry." Henry apologizes. "I didn't mean to startle you, I just wanted to ask you to pull that report on the..." he pauses to nervously inhale, "...the DNA report associated with the Julian Glausser murder case."

Lucas can't understand why his boss looks so nervous. _'Lot goin' on for the big guy. Everything's startin' to get to him.'_

"Lucas."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Right. Report. I'll get that to you right away." He quickly rises and walks around Henry to go retrieve the report, then stops and spins around to face him again. "That's the one with the 2000-year-old antibodies in it." he says in awe.

"Yes, I need you to retrieve it and bring it into my office, please."

"Right away." He turns and runs off.

Henry walks into his office and takes his seat behind his desk. Jo follows him with her eyes.

"Okay, Henry. What's up?"

"There are some things I need to share with you before Adam arrives."

"What ... sort of things?"

"Suspicions I've had about him regarding his possible involvement in the murder of Julian Glausser ... and ... possibly Xander Thomas." He looks obliquely at Jo.

She stares poker-faced at him for a few seconds, then her expression relaxes. "Okay, okay, I get it that you were still 'cloaked' at that time." She tilts her head to the side and sighs. "How long have you had these suspicions, Henry?"

"From," Henry clears his throat, "from the beginning. I, uh, sent Lucas to bring us the DNA analysis taken from the bit of skin that was trapped in Glausser's ring. He had fought back at his attacker."

She remembers and nods. "Okay. But since Adam comes back like you do, without a scratch on his body, there's no chance he'll have a healed wound. Except ... for the ... you know."

"Yes. But that report should perfectly match Adam and the one in his hospital records. There simply has to be something we can do with those to get him on the road to crime and punishment, as it were." he insists.

Lucas knocks on the door with the report in hand, and Henry motions for him to enter. He instructs Lucas to hand it to Jo and she studies it intently. At the same time, Henry motions for Lucas to sit next to Jo and he retrieves a copy of Adam's hospital records that contain a second report, from his desk drawer and hands it to her. Lucas peers at both reports along with her.

The three discuss both reports that could possibly help cement a case against Adam for at least this one murder. Neither of them are even aware when Hanson joins them, but they thankfully partake of the sandwiches and coffee he brings.

As Lucas examines the fake gun that Vic Caswell stole from Amy Mitchell, the same gun which Adam later used to carjack Abe with, Henry's phone rings and it's Reece. After a short conversation, he hangs up, stands, and delivers the grim news.

"Adam's arrived."


	15. Safety Net Ch 23

Notes: I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 _Henry: "There are some things I need to share with you before Adam arrives."_

 _Jo: "What ... sort of things?"_

 _Henry: "Suspicions I've had about him regarding his possible involvement in the murder of Julian Glausser ... and ... possibly Xander Thomas."_

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Even though Detectives Whitehall and Cochrane had collared Adam redhanded in Reuben Barnes' laboratory at the Center for Scientific Discovery, they'd bowed to Lt. Reece's request that they pass him off to the State Police to transport him back to her 11th precinct in New York City. As they'd watched the transport car disappear down the roadway with a strangely quiet and very smug-looking perp (Adam) cuffed in the back seat, something just didn't sit right.

"He's our collar, we should take him in." Cochrane complains.

"Apparently, there are a few Big M cold cases they're interested in him for." She tiredly sighs as she and Cochrane strap their seatbelts on and she starts up their car. "Murder trumps mayhem and Reece went over our heads."

It had also been stressed to them to read him his rights, which he had waived and they'd dutifully documented.

Whitehall drives onto the highway back to their own precinct and privately considers something. "I think it's time to call in a favor." She smiles and glances at Cochrane. "Because you know how incredibly nosey I am."

Cochrane's face breaks out into a knowing grin and he dials a number on his cell phone.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The troopers hand Adam off to four unis at the 11th precinct, who, in turn, escort him with two in front and two in back of him, to a basement bunker. Originally purposed as a fallout shelter in the 1950's and 1960's, it had rarely been used and after the fall of the Soviet Union in 1989, was abandoned. After 9/11, it had been renovated and repurposed for use as a sort of Situation Room and as a more secure setting to interrogate some more violent criminals and terror suspects. It also now used for interviewing and briefing those placed in the Witness Protection Program.

Reece opts to hold off on involving the HSA (Homeland Security Agency) for now. But she realizes that the situation with Adam is fluid. Anything can happen. Henry had looked as though she'd betrayed him when she'd informed him of her intention to involve the alphabet police. Instead, she'd arranged to have Adam interrogated in the bunker. That would provide both a higher level of security and privacy, not just for Adam, but for Henry, as well. In case Adam did find some way to escape by death, at least the number of witnesses would be minimal, and all would be sworn to secrecy as a matter of national security.

The Gang of Six (as Lucas now privately calls Reece, Jo, Mike, Henry, Abe, and himself), minus Abe, meets up in the bunker. He's reluctant to share the name he's come up with for fear of ridicule, but - _he_ likes it. In his mind, they are some super bad crime solvers and protectors of their immortal friend, Dr. Morgan.

Reece lays down some ground rules and then surprises them (but not much) as she updates them on her own investigative findings, which mirror theirs almost to a T. They then brace themselves for Adam's arrival. This is virgin territory for all of them, but it's agreed that Jo and Mike, armed with the two DNA reports that link him to the Glausser murder, will question Adam. Reece reminds them that even though he may be responsible for other crimes, if they can at least nail him with the Glausser murder, that's a good beginning. They all agree when there's a buzz from the outer door. Reece counters the buzz and the door opens. The surveillance video system captures the four unis that surround Adam as they pause midway in the short passageway. When a small overhead light turns from red, to yellow, then green, they proceed to the door leading to the bunker and a second buzz is countered by Reece and the door opens.

Henry looks over the shoulders of the two unis in front of Adam. The small parade seems to him to move in slow motion as Adam's cold, almost lifeless eyes lock with his. It's as though both the air and sound in the room have been sucked out. The armed escorts seat Adam in, and shackle his hand, waist, and ankle chains to, a specially designed chair on one side of the long, wooden conference table. They nod at Reece and exit the bunker. Two stand guard directly outside the bunker door and the other two, outside the outer door at the end of the passageway. The scraping sound of the chains snaps Henry back to a normal awareness of his surroundings. He continues to eye Adam intently, untrusting of the barest flinch the man should make.

Although the others are aware of the chilling stare down between their M.E., and their suspect, they focus on the strange and difficult task at hand: interrogating a psychopathic immortal stalker and killer, who may have the blood of hundreds, if not more, on his hands.

Adam slowly shifts his eyes from Henry to each of the other four as if memorizing them. His gaze lingers longest on Jo, who returns it with her own steely-eyed glare. She draws upon her training as a cop, remembering that intimidation is a tactic much employed by suspects and some of her male colleagues. She holds her own against him even though he totally creeps her out from her head down to her toes. But she's always been up for a good game of chicken against the guys; even won many a time. It appears she can add another notch to her belt this time.

He squints ever so slightly at her, then lifts his eyes to a spot on the wall above and to his left of the detectives seated across from him.

Henry at first feels his ire rise along with his heart rate as the scoundrel stares down the object of his affections, then feels overwhelming pride at her refusal to be intimidated by the man's soul-piercing stare. A corner of Henry's mouth threatens to form that familiar, lopsided grin and his heart rate slowly normalizes.

Reece drives an icy stare into Adam, as well. She looks over her detectives, and, satisfied that their resolve is intact, calmly states, "Let's get started." Formalities out of the way, the recording equipment engages, and Hanson starts the questioning.

"Where were you on February 4, 2015, between 1 pm and 5 pm?" Adam blinks a couple of times but doesn't reply. Mike shifts forward in his seat as he glances at Jo. He repeats the question. Still no reply from Adam. More agitated now, Mike tries again. "Look, Farber or Adam or whatever you call yourself, you waived your rights, so cut the mime act and answer the question!"

Adam shifts his eyes to Mike and tilts his head a bit. "Michael Randall Hanson, Jr. Married. Wife, Karen, two sons -"

"Cut the crap!" Mike orders him.

Adam doesn't blink in the face of Mike's anger. He adds another layer of self-satisfaction to the smug look on his face. He raises his eyebrows just a whisper as he views the scowling detective through half-closed eyes. "Hmmm, it would seem that the rigors of the job are getting to you, Detective. Or is it - all the adoption red tape?"

Mike's eyes widen round as saucers, then his face crumbles into a scowl more menacing than before as he jumps up, kicking his chair out from under him. He reaches across the table and growls at Adam. "You kuh-RAY-zee son of a - !" Both Lucas and Henry pounce on Mike and drag him back off the table. The two of them can just barely contain the weightier man, now angered beyond reason at the sound of his loved ones' names dropping so casually off the lips of this psycho. He spews as much venom as he can dredge up at Adam with promises of retaliation. "Believe, me, you nut job, I'll figure sumpin' out!"

Lucas and Henry talk over each other as they try to calm him down. Henry's words ("This is what he does best, Mike. He knows how to get under your skin. It's called divide and conquer.") finally register with him. He ceases his tirade and looks apologetically at them. The two men release him and look to Reece for guidance. She raises a hand at them but studies Mike the whole time. He smooths his thick, black hair down, pauses and glares at Adam for a couple of seconds, then rights his chair and reseats himself. Lucas and Henry also take their seats again at the end of the table near Reece, who's at the head.

Jo is aware of the three men struggling behind her but keeps her eyes on Adam. The look of amusement that snakes over his extremely pale face both disturbs and angers her. After Mike seats himself beside her once again, she takes her turn at the questioning.

"We know you're not answering because you don't want to tell us that you were busy torturing and killing Julian Glausser. Am I right?" She doesn't wait for his reply, but pushes an upside down photo of Glausser's brutalized and bloodied corpse across the table to him. "This your handiwork?"

His smug look of amusement flattens out into one of pure annoyance as he eyes her up and down. "How nice to see you again, Det. Martinez. Quite the professional, you are, and steadfast in your determination to pin the murder of this most unfortunate individual on me, but ... I can assure you that I had nothing to do with it." He glances down at the photo again, then back up at Jo. "I've never seen this man in my life."

"And you've, uh, had a pret-tee long life, haven't you, Adam? What name were you actually born with?" She poises her pen over her note pad. "I mean, for the record, because we know it's not Adam and I seriously doubt that it's Lewis Farber. So. What is it, hmmm?" She deliberately mimics his "Hmmm" earlier as a dig at him. Two can play that game of getting under someone's skin. She'd grown up trading caps with her brothers and his friends.

The smugness returns to Adam's face. "You choose your women **well** , Henry. First, dear Abigail who sacrificed her life to protect you. Now, this one who's licensed to carry a weapon. I'd wager she wouldn't hesitate to shoot me in order to protect you, as well. Saucy little firepot, isn't she?" He turns his head slightly to the right to smirk at Henry, then slides his eyes back to Jo.

Henry chokes back a violent outburst and shoots daggers with his eyes at Adam. Reece places a calming hand on his shoulder. He struggles to control his breathing, lowers his head and studies Jo's reaction. How he wishes she weren't involved in this. But it was part of her job to be here. He wasn't there to help his Abigail when she took her own life to escape this madman and to prevent him from finding him. But the urge to defend Jo's honor is in direct conflict with how he knows she wants him to behave: stay back and let her do her job.

"Okay, these are the facts, smart guy." Mike explains, matter-of-factly. "We retrieved a piece of your skin that was stuck in Glausser's ring from when he belted ya one. I woulda paid to see that. The DNA obtained from that tiny piece of skin matches _your_ DNA." He opens the report from their lab and the one from Adam's hospital records. He turns them both upside down and plops them in front of him. "Perfect match, bright eyes."

"On top of that, you don't seem to have an alibi." Jo adds. "Open and shut case." She leans forward a bit and clasps her hands in front of her on the table. "Do yourself a favor and tell us what happened." She looks at her watch then back at Adam. "My, uh, firepot needs stoking, so I haven't got all day." She tilts her head to the side and looks him squarely in the eye.

Lucas is breathless with excitement at the events unfolding in front of him. _'Ouch, score a big one for_ _ **our**_ _side.'_

"You can't pin his murder on me." Adam rasps, his face pale and hard. His words rush together in an angry rant. "Tell them, Henry. There is absolutely no way to make these charges stick against me without making my condition and **your** condition public. No one will believe you and you'll all be made to look like fools. Much like that foolish duo, Barnes and Larson." He settles back in the uncomfortable chair, some calm restored, his face still pale and hard.

"You want a confession? I'll give you one." He snaps his head to Henry. "Yes, I murdered him. I murdered Julian Glausser. He was safe as long as he worked with Karl Haas and me to reunite Jewish families with their long lost treasures and family heirlooms the Nazis had stolen from them during World War II. Once he crossed the line to profit from them, however, he sealed his fate. He'd been warned by me what would happen if I ever got wind of him profiting from our clandestine operation. Once. I don't enjoy repeating myself, nor is it in my nature to beg. He should have suppressed his greedy tendencies and heeded my warning."

He settles down somewhat as if the confession had lifted a burden off of him. "And I can guarantee that you all will regret that you ever even _thought_ to take on the likes of me! Tell them, Henry. Executing me will only result in my coming back to life without a mark on my body. There is no law that speaks to executing immortals. Once it's done, it's done. And I'll walk the streets again, a free man. And life imprisonment? Means absolutely nothing to the likes of you and me. There is no provision in the law for imprisoning someone for eternity. Besides, I'll just kill myself to escape. I could have killed myself after I was captured. But I wanted to make the trip here. To teach you another lesson, Henry, child, that you are. By the way, do they know that you once escaped prison by hanging yourself?" The look of utter shock and dismay on his would-be/could-be protegee's face pleases him and a slight smile tugs at his straight, thin lips.

Henry dips deeply into the reservoir of his carefully-crafted, centuries old facade and resists the urge to jump to his feet and twist Adam's very head off. He seethes with anger, his fists opening and closing again and again as he fights to rebuild the wall around his emotions. The wall that just crumbled from the wrecking ball in the form of Adam's words. He'd purposely omitted that horrendous fact from his long story he'd shared with them - even with Jo. The others stare incredulously at him. Jo and Mike quickly shift their concentration back to Adam but inwardly reel at this newest revelation regarding their friend's long and obviously complicated life. He'd often said that, hadn't he? It's complicated.

Jo snaps her fingers in front of Adam. "Here." (snap, snap) "Over here, Mr. Scary Big Mouth. We're not through with you."

Adam looks at her again, his small, dark eyes narrow, the small muscles in his jaw pull his lower lip back, forcing his mouth into a thin line, the veins on the sides of his neck strain and protrude. "Henry." His voice is quiet but now cuts through their sensibilities with the skill and precision of a maniacal but competent surgeon. "Inform these - people - that defeat lies only in their vocabulary. Many have tried to defeat me. ALL have failed. I continue to live, to exist. Always. For-EV-er!" He speaks vehemently to Henry, but maintains eye contact with Jo and Mike.

"Oh, I wouldn't be too quick to rely on that if I were you. Laws are being proposed and written as we speak." Jo out and out lies. It works, though. Adam's dark, merciless eyes meet hers. "There are levels of government cloaked in secrecy that operate outside the normal laws. Those people do what they want, when they want, to whomever they want. To whomever poses a threat to our nation's national security. They make the Men in Black look like boy scouts." She licks her lower lip and tilts her head to the side as she studies Adam. "How 'bout we just hand you over to them, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan." Mike happily agrees. "We just hand you, our evidence, and your confession over to them and let _them_ deal with your wacko butt." He gathers up the photos and reports and arranges them into a neat pile. "I get to go home to my steak dinner."

 _'The weird dude confessed." Lucas marvels to himself. 'Hey. Not a bad title for my next short film. Of course, all ... names would have to be changed. Some events and places ... and ... dang! Can't use any of this. But man, oh, man, if only I could, it would be bigger than that indie where people searched for a witch in the woods. And found her.'_ Lucas laments his missed opportunity for wealth and fame. _'But we ... well, they ... no!_ _We_ _got our man.'_

"Let's wrap this up, then." Reece directs, who's stood the entire time with arms folded, taking in everyone and everything. The two detectives and two M.E.'s, all rise from their chairs.

Adam has been aware that ever since his arrival in the bunker, all eyes, for the most part, have remained trained on him. No doubt, he scoffs to himself, in a coordinated effort not to allow him any opportunity to escape by causing his own death. He notices Henry's calmer demeanor out of the corner of his eye and decides to continue with his prepared "lesson" for the junior immortal.

"There is something else that I feel compelled to share with you. But ... since this concerns mostly your learned Medical Examiner ... " he looks at Reece with raised eyebrows and waits for her reaction. She heaves a sigh of annoyance but pauses the recording equipment and glares at Adam. "Ah! Another strong, beautiful, intelligent woman with a gun, ready to protect our precious Henry." he mocks.

"Say what you wish to say and be done with it, Adam." Henry grittily demands. "Although, in truth, there is nothing you have to say that I wish to hear."

"From the beginning, I only wished to share with you things that could help you on your long journey. Things that I had to learn all alone. For instance, roughly 250 years after my first death, an illness of sorts came upon me that forced me to take to my bed for the better part of a week. I was beset by nightmares and fevered sweats."

"Sounds like any number of illnesses for which, at that time, neither an effective treatment nor a cure had yet been found." Henry responds disinterestedly. "Why do you feel compelled to share this mundane information with me?"

"Because, Henry, child, that you are, it is not mundane. It is pertinent to you and me. I was beset by an illness that caused me to relive and feel the pain of every single one of my deaths again, from my first death up to that point." His eyes flutter a bit as he recalls the agony and torment of that time. "On the morning of the fifth day, I awoke. Fit as a fiddle, but ... with the full memory of what I had just undergone." His voice trembles ever so slightly as he continues.

"Roughly 600 years after that, the strange illness beset me again and I relived each of my second series of deaths. After another 425 years, my third set of deaths. It was only 400 more years before I succumbed again and relived my fourth set of deaths." He turns his head slightly towards Henry but keeps his eyes cast downward. "Do you know when I was forced to relive the pain of my fifth set of deaths, Henry?" his voice a gravelly rasp.

Henry furrows his brow and eyes him intensely, but does not reply.

"It was three weeks ago while I was flat on my back in my hospital bed. A hospital bed that you put me in after you pulled that empty hypodermic needle out of your medical bag of tricks. You, Henry, made it possible for me to have suffered through it this time while unable to either speak or move! Your time is coming, Henry. I wanted only to help you, to warn you. To share with you some of the things that I've gone through. But instead," he chuckles humorlessly, "you chose to ignore me. Is it any wonder as to why I turned against you?" He turns away from Henry and lowers his eyes to his shackled hands. "You seem to be very good at having me restrained, don't you, Henry, child that you are?"

"It didn't have to be this way, Adam. It never had to be this way. You set the tone for our future interaction when you interfered in our lives years ago and led my wife to believe that the only way to keep our son and me safe from you, was to take her own life. You killed Abigail, just as surely as if you'd wielded the knife yourself. And then you kept interfering in our lives revelling in the fact that for us to have sought help, even from the police, would have exposed my condition. I'm sorry for you, that you are the way you are, so pathetic, twisted and alone. But you have no one to blame for your circumstances but yourself."

"And for the record, Adam? You forced my hand when I injected you with the air bubble that caused you to suffer the locked-in syndrome. I did not enjoy having to do that. But I have enjoyed every single day and night that you were confined and could no longer meddle in our lives. In light of your confession, it appears that my enjoyment will continue for a very long time."

"You'll suffer, Henry, like I did. It's the price we must pay for this insufferable gift."

"Well, thank you, Adam, for that walk down memory lane, but if there's anything new to be learned about my condition, I shall find out for myself. I don't need you to hold my hand during my walk through time. And, perhaps you're right. Maybe I am just a child with my 200 years compared to your 2000. Or maybe you're just suffering from early onset immortal dementia."

Adam fumes and bristles at that. The others bite their tongues to hold their laughter in.

'Quadruple-double, Doc!' Lucas silently celebrates.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

While Adam is in booking, the Gang of Six (minus Abe) walk into the bullpen and find two well-dressed men in suits pacing near Reece's office door. As they get nearer to them, they flash their ID's and identify themselves.

"Agent Barton Danes, Homeland Security. This is my partner, Agent Avery Brumfeld." While Reece returns the professional courtesy, Henry looks on in astonishment. For Agents Danes and Brumfeld are clean shaven spitting images of the homeless duo that'd helped him after his most recent reemergence and a few times before. He wonders if he should make up an excuse so he can bolt from them when Reece's voice brings him back to their conversation.

"And what brings you to the 11th? As far as I know, no one from this office contacted HSA." She steps closer and stands almost shoulder-to-shoulder to Henry. "For any reason." she asserts.

Henry smiles inwardly at her indirect way of assuring him of her promise of support. Their promise of support.

"Well, we got an anoymous tip that someone who's been on our radar for quite some time was in your custody." He pulls out an 8x10 glossy of Adam and shows it to her. "Goes lately by the name of Lewis Farber, but it's a cinch that's an alias. Perp's used lots of names. He's a POI for several crimes and we've been ordered to take over the case." He places the photo back into a manila folder and closes it. "Sorry to pull rank on you, Lieutenant, but it's that kind of case."

 _'Phil?' Henry finds it hard to believe_. _'All those times they'd seen me reemerge in the East River, naked. Is it possible that they ... know about my condition? Had they ever seen Adam reemerge?'_

Reece shakes her head. "No, problem, Agent Danes. You're just doing your jobs. And, since it's _that_ kind of case, he's all yours." She and the agents exchange hand shakes.

Danes turns his attention to Henry. "And nice to meet you, too, uh ... " He extends his hand and smiles slightly.

Henry hestitates then shakes his hand. "Dr. Morgan, Henry Morgan."

Danes straightens up, the curious smile still on his lips. "You know, you remind me of someone we've nicknamed Flipper Boy." He glances over at his partner, who merely grins.

"Flipper Boy?" Mike chuckles. "Why Flipper Boy?"

"Oh, no reason." He smiles again at Henry and dips his head slightly. "Just an inside joke."

Henry finally relaxes, smiles, and nods a silent thank you.

The agents take their leave of Reece and the others and head off to take custody of Adam/Farber/whatever his real name is.

"Hey!" Mike walks quickly over to his desk and spreads his arms out over it. "Look, Ma, no paperwork! I'm outta here." He waves to the group as he strides towards the elevator. "See ya tomorrow, folks. Steak and potatoes, Here. I. Come."

"Yeah, me, too. Tomorrow, everybody." Lucas waves, walks backwards a bit, then turns and sprints towards the elevator.

"Good night, you two." Reece says quietly to Jo and Henry and she enters her office and closes the door. Jo and Henry suddenly find themselves alone in the bullpen except for a couple of other exiting detectives.

"So." Jo says, looking down at her feet.

"So." Henry echoes her.

Then she realizes something. "Abe was scheduled to come down tomorrow and give his statement."

They walk slowly to her desk and Henry waits while she retrieves her purse from one of the drawers. Then they walk together out of the bullpen.

"Ummm, I don't think it really matters right now, do you? The HSA Agents will contact him if they need him to do so. But somehow I don't think they will." He punches the elevator's down button.

After they enter the elevator, Jo smiles mischievously up at Henry. She steps behind him and traces a finger down his spine, which causes his breath to hitch and sends the most delicious spurts of pleasure up his spine. "Hmmm, no dorsal fin." she says in a mock-serious way. She then leans forward and props her chin up on his shoulder.

He laughs and it feels good to laugh. It feels good to be with her. The elevator doors open and they exit into the basement. As they walk into the morgue so he can exchange his lab coat for his jacket and scarf, Jo takes his arm and playfully whispers, "Do I call you Flipper Boy from now on?"

Notes: Somewhere along the way, Adam found out about Mike and Karen Hanson trying to adopt baby Gretchen, either from the local news or from hospital chatter. Let's also assume that he has minions stashed here and there who feed him information in return for him not offing them. Maybe. A story for another time. The anonymous tipster was none other than Det. Marcia Whitehall, not happy with being left out of the loop on their recent collar, alerted a couple of pals at HSA currently working undercover as homeless guys living under the bridge near the banks of the East River.


	16. Safety Net Ch 24

Summary: The dust settles enough to allow the Gang, Henry's personal Safety Net, to relax a little and tend to some personal things.

Notes: I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

With Adam now safely in the HSA's custody, the Gang of Six feel they can finally breathe a collective sigh of relief. According to Lucas, the government's going to park him permanently into Hanger 13 or Area 51 or in some secret underwater facility in the Bermuda Triangle. Yup. There's one there. He's sure of it. The aliens helped build it. But, more importantly, Jo and Henry now have time to cultivate and explore their new relationship.

Henry's office in the morgue ...

They part, breathless, after a particularly heavy kissing session. He tilts his head to the side and gently runs his fingers up and down the side of her neck. "You're going to have to wear either scarves or turtlenecks for the rest of the week now." he mockingly observes. He laughs when her hand jumps to the side of her neck and she playfully slaps him on the arm with her other. He sits down on the edge of his desk and continues to laugh as she worriedly studies her neck and throat in her compact mirror.

"Thank you for that shameful diagnosis, Doctor." She feigns annoyance as she snaps the compact shut and drops it back into her purse. But she happily allows him to loop his scarf around her waist and tug her close to him again. "Will this be a recurring condition for me, Doctor? I hope?" she asks with wide-eyed innocence.

He sighs and confesses, "Yes, I'm afraid so."

She runs her fingers lightly over his closely-cropped mustache and scruff, then pushes them through the waves at his temples. The roughness of his scruff tingles her soft hands and excites her as much as the feel of the babyfine softness of his temple hairs. She watches as he closes his eyes and lolls his head around, enjoying her finger exploration through his hair. "Is there a cure for it?" Her voice whispery soft.

"I'm afraid not." He buries his face into the other side of her neck and hugs her even closer to him. He smiles as she gasps when he gently rubs his teeth over the muscle on the side of her neck then, darts his tongue over her sensitive pulsepoint. His hands develop a mind of their own as they freely roam over her, his desire for her unbridled. Not since he'd first met and known Abigail had he felt so embarrassed over his emotional and physical need for a woman, and, at the same time, so brazenly uncaring over his embarrassment. His need for her runs rough shod over his gentlemanly manners and upbringing and tramples them in the dust.

"Henry," she gasps, "Henry." She gently tugs her neck away from his lips and they slowly pull away from each other, waiting for their frienzied, desirous haze to lift.

"Jo." he says, almost pleading.

"Not here. Not here." She suspects that he'd been intimate with Iona Payne/Mollie Dawes here in the morgue some months ago, and she'd rather their intimate memories not include his time with her.

He blinks at her as his thoughts once again cohere, the unspoken meaning behind her words, clear to him. She steps back and over his scarf, now on the floor, and picks it up and hands it to him. He situates it loosely around his neck and gathers both her hands in his. "Dinner?" She nods. They leave the morgue and find themselves at Jo's with Chinese takeout that becomes instant leftovers when they finally decide to break the last rule of courtship.

vvvv

Bellevue Hospital, Amy Mitchell's room ...

Lucas Wahl sits and chats with Amy Mitchell. He'd gone there to visit her after Det. Mike Hanson informed him that she'd been seriously injured by her former co-worker, Victor Caswell. Lucas recalled their brief but definite connection some weeks earlier at ComicCon. They'd exchanged reviews and trivia on 50's sci-fi movies, then she'd completely floored him when she'd suggested they exchange phone numbers. He sheepishly admits to her now that he'd misplaced her number, not lost - misplaced. At any rate, he does most of the talking because she's in one of those metal braces called a halo. So named because it circles and attaches to her skull in order to keep the bones in her cervical spine immovable. She's terrified to move so she eyes an explanatory brochure on her side table and he picks it up and reads it.

His eyes grow large when he reads the part where pins are screwed into her skull above her eyebrows to keep the brace in place. "Whoooaaa, Dude." He reads further about the metal rods that connect the brace to the plastic vest she's wearing over her chest and her back. Fortunately, her neck fracture, caused when Vic Caswell threw her and she'd hit the metal arm of a futon a couple of days ago, is not as serious as first thought. Still serious enough, though, that she can expect to wear the halo brace for at least eight to 12 weeks.

Lucas is dismayed for her but he figures that's good enough time for him to visit regularly and for them to catch up on things. And ... maybe establish a real friendship and, maybe, beyond friendship. He recognizes her smile as not just a polite smile. He's had enough of those thrown his way to recognize a genuine one. She really likes him. This is wayyyy past cool. And she's pretty. Not Det. Martinez pretty, but more like Det. Martinez, Jr., pretty. And she's smart. And nice. He takes a chance and places his hand near hers. She grins and wiggles her fingers and he slowly slides his hand under hers until their palms touch and he gently encloses her hand with his long, slim fingers. Man, that feels nice. He's been talking her ear off but for now, they just hold hands and grin bashfully at each other. Yeah. This ... this feels nice.

vvvv

The Hanson household ...

Karen Hanson lets out a loud sigh and plops down on the living room sofa next to her husband, Mike. Even though his eyes are closed and his head rests into the back cushions, he grabs her around the waist and pulls her onto his lap, surprising her.

"I thought you were asleep, Casanova." she laughs.

He opens his eyes and raises his head up off of the cushions to look at her. "Nope, just thinking."

"About what, Babe?"

"This!" He crushes his lips against hers and hugs her tightly against him.

"Well, I'd say you need to think more often." They both laugh and enjoy a more tender, lingering kiss.

"Boys are awfully quiet." he says.

"They are so excited over getting a little sister. They're upstairs planning her nursery and her first birthday party."

"First birth-, well, I guess that gives them something better to do than their usual bickering." He smiles and shakes his head. "I'm really proud of those two little guys. Thought maybe they'd be jealous and uncooperative at first. No, they just jumped right in all excited, offering suggestions and stuff." He shook his head again. "This is gonna be good, honey." He looked at Karen. "And baby makes ... " He pretends to not know how to count on his fingers and she grabs his hand.

"Five!" They laugh and kiss again. Then they snuggle into each other and silently entertain their individual thoughts on their soon-to-be-expanding family. "Gretchen Hanson." She whispers, trying the name out again, then softly kisses Mike on the cheek. He gives her a quick peck on the lips. "Our daughter." He nods. "I can't wait to hold her in my arms, Mike." He nods.

vvvv

Ryker's Island, Reuben Barnes' prison cell ...

"Barnes." a guard gruffs at him.

Reuben Barnes lies in his bunk with one arm over his face. At the sound of the guard's voice, he removes the arm and looks at him.

The guard unlocks the cell door and opens it. "Warden wants to see you."

Barnes swings his legs onto the floor and slowly rises. Just a little over a day in the prison's special holding cell has sapped his strength, despite the fact that the serum he'd made from Ben Larson's blood and injected himself with, has not yet worn off. He steps outside the cell and holds his hands out to be cuffed, then he walks in front of the guard to the Warden's office.

Once inside, the guard is dismissed and the Warden instructs Barnes to be seated.

"Barnes, this is your lucky day." The Warden motions towards the two suit-clad gentlemen already seated in the room. "Homeland Security apparently requires your help."

vvvv

11th Precinct, NYPD, Lt. Reece's office ...

The lieutenant settles into her chair behind her desk. She opens a bottom drawer and uses it to prop her feet up and sighs at the temporary relief. She closes her eyes and reclines her chair just enough to semblance resting at home in her more comfortable recliner. What a day, what a day, what a day, she tells herself. Her phone buzzes and she fishes it out of her pocket to view the screen. Hmmm, a personal alarm to remind her to meet up with some of her Howard University Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority members. She places her feet back down on the floor and scoots up to her desk in her chair. As she dials a soror's phone number to confirm the next day's luncheon at Janeva's Soul Food Kitchen in Harlem, she realizes that her conversational contributions will top any and everything the others have to offer. But she can't share any of it. She laughs at herself for wanting to top a certain soror who keeps them all updated on her son, the astronaut and her daughter, an interpreter at the U.N. Honorable professions both, and she has a right to be proud of her accomplished children, but ... neither of them are immortal. Reece can't help but laugh out loud for wanting to top her braggy friend. How childish, she reprimands herself.

After the confirming call, she touches the photos icon to once again view the ones that Barnes shared with her, but they are no longer in her phone. Horrified, she looks through her emails and finds that every last email from Barnes, including attachments, are also no longer in her phone.

"How ... ?" She slowly realizes that the HSA must be behind the sudden information blackout. Reece shuts her phone down and huffs. "Okay, boys, have it your way. Do what you have to do. Just don't let that murdering snake, Adam, out of his cage. Ever."


	17. Safety Net Ch 25

Summary:

WToWT revealed. The Gang, Henry's Safety Net of friends, has a Q&A with him. (It may appear that they are kind of ignoring Ben Larson, but he has already had his Q&A with them, so, don't fret.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 _"Not here. Not here." She suspects that he'd been intimate with Iona Payne/Mollie Dawes here in the morgue some months ago, and she'd rather their intimate memories not include his time with her._

 _He blinks at her as his thoughts once again cohere, the unspoken meaning behind her words, clear to him. She steps back and over his scarf, now on the floor, and picks it up and hands it to him. He situates it loosely around his neck and gathers both her hands in his. "Dinner?" She nods. They leave the morgue and find themselves at Jo's with Chinese takeout that becomes instant leftovers when they finally decide to break the last rule of courtship._

vvvv

Three days later in the bullpen, Jo's desk ...

She sits and stares at the computer screen, finger poised on her mouse. All she has to do is click and send the email off to complete a report, but she's distracted by the events of the past three days. Of particular concern is what happened, or, rather, what didn't happen three days ago when she and Henry had decided to break their chastity vows with each other. Didn't happen, she tells herself again and sighs. _'Can't believe I fell_ _ **asleep**_ _before we had a chance to_ _ **do**_ _anything!'_

Sure, they'd liplocked and passionately wrestled each other all the way from her sofa, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, as they'd left different items of clothing along the way. But almost as soon as she'd lain back across her bed with Delectable Creature Henry atop her, smothering her with kisses ... she'd fallen asleep! How lame is that? She could kick herself. And, to make matters worse, he'd been so understanding the next morning and had even prepared a delicious breakfast for the both of them. Ugh! Ever the gentleman when she'd wanted him to be just the opposite. But Henry was Henry and she couldn't change him or his mind when it was made up. She'd slept and he'd had time to rethink things. She suddenly couldn't help but laugh at herself and shake these bad thoughts out of her head.

He'd explained that he was okay with her falling asleep because it had made him realize that their original plan to not break that last rule of courtship was best. He'd even cupped her face with both of his large hands and kissed her on the forehead. The forehead. Ay, yi, yi! You'll see, he'd promised her, it will be romantic, lovely, memorable and, in the end, they would both respect each other more and their love would grow from untainted beginnings. Untainted beginnings? Had they really spoken like that back in the 1700's and 1800's? Did they really have to do this? She'd read "Madam Bovary". sighs pouts

 _'Get a grip, Martinez, the guy's trying to do you a favor and keep you from messing things up.'_ Although, what a nice mess it would be. She hadn't realized that she had the most devilish of smiles on her face and a blush to her cheeks as she recalled those breathless moments right before she'd ... fallen asleep! Grrrr!

I won't make it, she sadly predicts. I won't make it. Not for six months. Not with the likes of Henry Morgan in her frequent embrace. Not with those lips pressed against hers. Certainly not with that slim, muscular temptation of a body pressed against hers on a regular basis. Just WHO did he think he was, anyway? Who did he think SHE was? Little Miss Goody Two Shoes?

 _'Okay, Martinez, you got this, you can do this.'_ she tries to convince herself. After all, it's Henry and, well, if he believes that she's worth the wait, then ... he's definitely worth the wait, as well.

A hand waves in front of her face and she looks up into the face of its amused owner: her partner, Mike Hanson.

"Hey, you totally blanked out, there." he chuckles. He stands up and points to her mouse. "It's not against the law for you to click 'Send', you know."

Embarrassed, she slides her eyes back to the computer screen and reviews the email contents for the fourth or fifth time and finally clicks to send it off.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Mike continues his teasing. He eyes the single red rose in the vase on the corner of her desk. "The Doc's pretty serious about you, ain't he? Is that where you blinked off to? Henry Morgan Dreamland?"

"Enough!" she bats a hand at him but he steps back to avoid being hit.

"Seriously, though, Jo. You two are good for each other. I'm happy for you." he says quietly.

"Thanks, Mike." She smiles up at him, grateful for his support and encouragement.

He walks back to his desk and sits down. "You two make almost as good a couple as Karen and me. Almost." He leans back in his chair and mugs at her as she rolls her eyes at him.

vvvv

It's been nearly seven months since the dust settled and Adam was taken away by two HSA agents. The same two agents who were authorized to spring Dr. Reuben Barnes from Ryker's and indefinitely delay all charges against him. In return, Barnes will be allowed to continue his genetic research and life longevity/improvement work (for the government) at an undisclosed location. Wouldn't Lucas like to know where. His chief subject, or Patient of Interest, none other than Adam, himself. Besides using the troubled immortal to explore new avenues into his research, high on Barnes' task list will be to finally uncover personal information about him, i.e., his real name and personal history. Wouldn't Henry like to be a fly on that wall while the information is being extracted, er, obtained from him. Of course, Barnes will always be as humane as possible in his dealings with Adam (or whatever his real name is). He may or may not prove to be a viable subject for Barnes' research, so it might be necessary for his original volunteer subject, Ben Larson, to rejoin the mix. That is, if Ben can forgive him for what he feels is a betrayal. Not in developing the various serums from the fast-healing properties in his blood, but when Barnes used himself as a guinea pig (behind Ben's back) and temporarily wiped about 15 years from his own physical age. Maybe Ben can forgive him, especially since Barnes had no other willing test subject. Who knows?

vvvv

The Hanson household ...

Det. Mike Hanson and his wife, Karen, have just finished hosting a first birthday party for their newly-adopted daughter, Gretchen. Cute as a button, everyone agreed, and the apple of her new father's eye, Gretchen Hanson. Karen totally rejected her proposed nickname of "Gretch". Sounds too harsh, too much like a witch, for her tastes. She proposed "Gigi", a much sweeter and feminine one. You got the call, is all Mike said, evoking laughter from their guests. Even her two, new, older brothers managed to behave (after a fashion) during the party. There were no fights, or broken dishes or bones, and no complaints from any of the guests about them, so ... a good day in the Hanson household.

It's now evening, the boys are in their bedroom, the baby in her nursery, and a select group of stragglers relax with drinks in the privacy of the Hansons' den.

Karen enters the room and lets out a loud sigh of relief as her arms extend towards her husband, Mike. He nurses a bottle of beer with one hand and extends his free arm to welcome his wife into a tight hug against him as she perches herself on the rolled arm of his leather recliner. "They are all knocked out, can you believe it?"

Mike checks his wristwatch in disbelief. "Even Search and Destroy?" He immediately grins.

Karen playfully glares at him and slaps his knee. "I told you not to call my babies that!"

He laughs, as do the handful others present. "Sorry, honey. Hard to imagine those two quieted down so early in the evening."

"Well, I think the excitement of having a baby sister still hasn't worn off for them." she says with a smile and a faraway look in her eyes. She then looks down at Mike, her arm draped over his shoulders. "The party, everything, just plumb tuckered them out."

Henry can't help but smile as he watches them and be reminded of how proud and a bit scared that he and Abigail had been as newly-adoptive parents. Jo, his fiance, senses what his thoughts and feelings are at that moment and folds her hand into his. Her touch draws him out of his musings and he shares a smile and a hand squeeze with her.

"Hey, Doc. Not to be disrespectful or anything, but was the adoption process easier way back when?" Mike asks with one eyebrow up, the other down as the others in attendance laugh mildly but eagerly await the reply. "I mean all the hoops Karen and I had to jump through, whew!" He looks up to her for confirmation and she bobs her head up and down, a slight pout on her lips.

This is really the first time that the entire Gang of Six (plus Ben Larson, Abe's fiance, Fawn, and Lucas's girlfriend, Amy Mitchell) has gathered together in a purely relaxed, social setting, which allows them the chance to get some burning questions answered enmasse by their immortal friend.

He suddenly feels flushed, keenly aware that he is now center stage. A quick glance at his son, Abe, on the other side of the room, then a slight, forward lean. "Harder." is all he says. He then sits back with a broad grin on his face as the others burst into laughter, except Mike.

"Thanks a lot, Doc." He takes another swig of his bottled brew.

The laughter subsides and Henry takes in a deep breath. "Actually, it would have been much easier had we both been civilians. But it was harder because at the time, we were both in the military. The war was just nearing its end and, as you can imagine, adoption paperwork was at the bottom of their list of concerns." His thick Welsh accent pulls at the vowels even more when he's in his remembrance/lecture mode.

He continues as they listen attentively to him; a man who'd actually served in the 2nd World War along with some of their grandparents. "Because of certain ... extenuating circumstances, - "

"You!" Abe interjects and points at him, which evokes more laughter from the group.

"Thank you, Abraham." he nods sternly but playfully at him. "Yes. Me!" (more laughter). "Our rushed paperwork was completed in a most ... unorthodox fashion with ... highly questionable supporting documentation." He takes a quick sip of his Macallan (from his personal stock as he'd felt he'd need it tonight) and looks around the room, satisfied that his explanation is sufficient.

"Meaning, you lied!" Abe mockingly accuses and then pretends to cry. "That paperwork was a sham! You mean I was never really adopted?" He buries his face in his hand and wails, then pauses to take a sip from his bottle of beer, then plasters a sorrowful look back onto his face and wails some more. Fawn rubs his back and casts a mockingly mournful look at Henry. The rest of the group shake their fingers or their heads admonishingly at Henry and offer Abe fake words of comfort. Then they all burst into laughter again.

Once it subsides a bit, Henry shrugs and adds, "I refuse to answer on the grounds ..." He finishes the self-incrimination statement but the laughter of the others drowns it out.

"What was _that_ like?" Lucas grins and darts his eyes between Henry and Abe. "Being raised by Henry Morgan?"

Both men lower their heads at the same time, almost in the same manner, the same pose. And it doesn't go unnoticed by the group.

"Couldn't ask for better parents." Abe answers, a quiet reverance in his voice as he locks eyes with his father. Henry purses his lips and instantly feels the sting of tears burn at the back of his eyes. Abe takes another sip of his beer and clears his throat and looks down and away from Henry. "Of course, there _were_ a couple of times when ... " he quickly wiggles his hand and fingers in the air and makes a face.

"Oh, dear, here we go, here we go." Henry mutters under his smile and raised eyebrows. He braces himself for Abe's thousandth retelling of a 60-year-old slight.

"I think _I_ know what this is about." Ben states with gleeful anticipation and playfully nudges Henry on the arm.

Henry huffs backward in his chair and buries his face into his hand. His soft moan grows louder as Abe retells how, at age ten, he was forced to miss the fifth game of the World Series, the highlight of which was a perfect game by Don Larsen, Series MVP! Henry drops his hand from his face and both hands grip his knees as he sits forward to offer his side of the story. Again. "As I've told you countless times before, Abraham, your mother and I worked mandatory overtime in the ER and - "

"Yeah, yeah, you guys couldn't leave so you broke your promise and broke the heart of a poor little kid." He pretend-weeps again amidst the group's uproarious laughter. They joyfully marvel at the two men's father-son interaction.

Henry, in a desperate attempt to divert attention away from himself, turns in his seat to ask Ben Larson if Don Larsen was any relation (knowing full well that he isn't). Ben holds up a hand and laughingly denies any relationship and good-naturedly warns Henry not to drag him into this. Henry then grudgingly gives his attention once again to his son.

Abe turns a serious face to Henry. "When you guys didn't come home, Mrs. Demetriou, from across the hall, came and got me and fed me dinner."

Henry frowns a bit. "Yes, the very nice Greek lady who helped us out many a time when we needed a sitter for you." He nods in fond remembrance of her.

"She fed me goat's eyes, Dad!"

Henry's eyelids flutter close and he leans back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Jo offers her support by grabbing his arm and hugging in closer to him. The group roars with laughter again.

"Goat's eyes!" Abe says, unblinking.

"Greek ... food is very tasty and nourishing ... "

"My dinner was lookin' at me, Pops!" He grimaces at the memory, as does Henry. Everyone else, for that matter.

"Well, she should have cut the pupils off for you and ... " the group gave up a collective "Eww!" as Henry continues to try to bail water from his sinking boat. The group's mood clearly tilts towards Abe. He gives up and finishes his response to Jo. "Boil them in wine, they make a very fine meal." Her face puckers into a painful frown and he rolls his eyes. "They're meat, just meat." She shakes her head vigorously at the disgusting image.

Joanna Reece manages to control her laughter enough to ask Abe, "What was the other time?"

Abe turns his attention fully to her now, pleased to unravel his next tale of woe. "Mom and Dad left me on this farm for about a month. I was ten; it was really crappy - "

"It belonged to Abigail's parents, who loved you very much, by the way (he points a finger at Abe) and was a very nice _estate_ in the English countryside." Henry quickly butts in this time in order to minimize the impact of Abe's woeful tale.

Abe turns to Henry now. "There was no TV."

Henry rolls his eyes. "There were other activities to occupy you." He frowns as Abe continues.

"Yeah, like milking a goat. It's a wonder I don't throw up now just at the mention of that word: goat."

Henry shifts in his seat. "Abraham, there is nothing bad about milking a goat." he says reproachfully.

"To a kid raised in the asphalt jungle of New York City, it was a horror!" He pretend-weeps again into his hand. "I was ... trau-ma-tized." His shoulders shake while he moves one finger to peek out at Henry, then places it back and boo-hoos again. Fawn grabs his arm and shakes him, a large grin on her face. He then suddenly straightens up, his face completely devoid of any tears. "Then, Grandpa took me to a cricket match. Said he knew it should remind me of my American baseball game."

Henry straightens up and dramatically announces, "Cricket is - "

"BOR-ringgg!" Abe finishes. The others howl with laughter.

Henry jumps up, his fists balled up at his sides, and levels a stern look at his son. "The day we picked you up, you were grinning from ear-to-ear, Abraham, riding a pony." He sits back down, feeling he's scored a valid point in his favor.

Abe stops and recalls that nice memory. He smiles. "Yeah. Cute little pony. My pony." The laughter dies down as the two men share the memory and a smile.

"So, as an adoptee, Abe, have you ever found out what your birth name was?" Karen asks. The room goes quiet.

"Uh ... yeah. Not my first name, but my last name was Weinraub. My parents were Julius and Reba Weinraub."

"How'd you find out?" she presses.

Abe shoots a glance at Henry, who lowers his eyes and rubs a finger along the rim of his glass. Abe's not quite sure how to answer and not quite sure if he should. Or if he wants to. He doesn't want to bring Adam's name into their conversation. He then takes in a deep breath and lets it out. "I ... had a little help." he finally replies. Then he perks up. "But it enabled me to put my family tree together. I found cousins all over the globe. Some right here in New York!" he exclaims. "And the best thing? Who do you suppose I found sitting on one of the branches of my family tree?" He gleefully points to Henry. "This guy!"

Henry smiles and softly says, "Apparently, we are blood-related cousins through my mother's Longworth line, thanks to my Uncle Dennis Longworth, who fathered a child out of wedlock shortly before he was shot and killed in a duel." Henry fondly recalls his wayward uncle. "I was about 12 years old when he died. There weren't very many mourners at his funeral, as I recall. He was a bit of a Casanova with other men's wives. And he had large gambling debts. He loved attending the comedies, as we called them. They later became known as burlesque and now, strip clubs." A smattering of titters is heard from the group. Henry frowns as he pulls the memory further out of a fog. "There were, however, as many as a dozen weeping women in black who all claimed to be his wife." The group erupts in laughter once more.

"Must have been great to find all that out, Abe." Amy says. "You know, you and Henry being related. My mother does genealogy so it must have been gratifying for you to finally construct your family tree with the right surname." she adds.

"Well, Weinraub may have been the surname I was born with, and I don't doubt that my birth parents, had they been allowed to live, would have been great parents." He looks at Henry with true conviction. "But as far as I'm concerned - Morgan - is my right surname."

The mutual pride, love, and respect between the two men envelopes the group like a warm blanket and makes them feel all cozy and fuzzy around the edges. After several moments, Lucas breaks the silence.

"Uh ... you were once in prison, Henry?" Some of the others moan and chide him for bringing that up.

Henry puts up a hand. "No, no, it's, it's fine." He gathers his thoughts as his eyes dart back and forth. He begins haltingly as he reminds them of Nora's disbelief at his claim of immortality and how she'd had him committed to a lunatic asylum. What he hadn't disclosed was that he'd assaulted one of the warden's assistants in an effort to escape being waterboarded again. The laws at that time mainly favored those with the best connections and the fattest purses, which paid for the best connections. Since he no longer had either, it was by a mere stroke of the pen that his status as patient was altered to prisoner, and he one day found himself in Warick Prison. Lucas hadn't asked outright about him hanging himself, but he knew that was the underlying question.

"My cellmate, a defrocked Catholic priest, convinced me to ... " his voice trails off and he looks at Jo, then Abe for encouragement. She hugs his arm and smiles as warmly as she can at him. He licks his lower lip and continues. "Convinced me to ... end ... my life in an effort to free myself from the confines of the prison." The room is silent as if everyone is holding their breath. They can definitely see how much of a painful memory this is for him and how difficult it is for him to share it with them. Even though it's a difficult thing for them to hear, they remain silent and allow him to finish.

"We, uh, knotted our bedsheets together to fashion a, uh ... " He inwardly recoils at the memory of that dark time. He swallows a couple of times and quickly shakes his head in an effort to rein in his emotions, then looks at Abe. "I've never told anyone. Not you. Not even your mother." The emotions rumble deeply through his now raspy voice. He realizes he can't detail his actual death. "Anyway, it worked. I reawakened in the Thames River and went on from there."

"Did you ever see Nora again?" Joanna asks, surprising herself at her own boldness.

He tenses for a moment and decides it's best to cut to the chase, as Jo and Mike are often fond of saying. No need to add another layer of gloom to this gathering. "After many, many years. She was near 80 by then. Legally we were still man and wife, as she had never put through the divorce papers. But there was nothing left of our marriage to salvage. She died two years later." He's aware of Abe's eyes on him so he nods at him and smiles. "But please," he loudly implores, "do not allow me to dominate the conversation any further."

"One ... more question, Henry." They all turn to the requestor, Ben. "Think you'll ever figure this out?" He waves his hand back and forth between the two of them, his expression darkly somber.

Henry ponders for a moment, then smiles confidently at Ben. "I'll be sure to let you know, Ben."

vvvv

Two weeks later at the morgue ...

Henry and Lucas await the arrival of Det. Jo Martinez and her new partner, a transfer from upstate, so they can share the results of an autopsy on a supposed drowning victim. The familiar sound of spiky heels connecting with the morgue's tiled floor catches their attention. Especially since there are two sets of spiky heels.

"Hello, Detective." Henry pleasantly greets Jo.

"Hey, Henry. Lucas." she replies as she walks up and stands on the other side of the autopsy table. "This is my new partner, Det. Marcia Whitehall." Jo introduces her to the two men and they all exchange greetings. "She's going to be filling in temporarily while Mike has his tonsils and his appendix taken out."

"Ouch!" Lucas grimaces but keeps his mind on his work. Normally, a hottie like Marcia Whitehall would have left him tongue tied and suddenly super clumsy, but lately he's had only one woman on his mind: Amy Mitchell. sighs cupid hearts whenever he thinks of her.

Henry notices the difference in Lucas' behaviour and concludes that the young man must truly be in love this time. Good lad, he thinks to himself.

The two femme fatale detectives obtain the needed information and leave the morgue, their spiky heels forming a duet of click, clacks on the tile floor.

Ben Larson emerges from Henry's office and watches the retreating forms of both detectives. Especially that of Det. Whitehall. "Ya know, I just might like working here as a Morgue Attendant after all. Eventually work my way up to Medical Examiner." He takes a few paces forward and then turns to face them. "I was a pre-med student at one time. Could pick it back up since I've got a lot more time on my hands than most." he jokes.

"Oh, and what, pray tell, brought this on all of a sudden, Morgue Attendant Larson?" Henry asks as he and Lucas exchange knowing looks.

"Oh, it's just that," Ben shrugs with his hands in his jean pockets, "the scenery just got a little nicer here all of a sudden." He faces Henry and Lucas and jabs his thumb over his shoulder. "Did she say her name was Whitehall?"

"Yes," Henry replies as he feigns interest in the completed autopsy report. "I believe her first name is Marcia." He side-eyes Lucas, who turns and pretends to cough.

"Marcia, Marcia, Marcia." Ben grins and swoons with his hand over his heart.

"Yeah," Lucas adds, "those spiky heels will get you every time. Click, clack, click, clack ... "

Notes:

Thanks to everyone who followed along with this story, originally a one-shot. My first fan fic. Thank you all for your kind reviews and helpful suggestions. See you in another universe as I post my other fics. Forever lives in my heart but New York City plays host to several other enjoyable characters and TV shows. Peace. Out.


End file.
